Ginny Weasley and the Half Blood Prince
by RRFang
Summary: The story of "Harry Potter and the HBP", but told from the 3rd person POV of Ginny Weasley. Strictly in-canon. Suitable for anyone whom the "Harry Potter" novels themselves would be suitable for.
1. Prologue: Phoenix's End

_This_, Ginny Weasley thought grumpily to herself, _is NOT what I had in mind for the evening._

There was a party about to start in the Gryffindor common room. It was end-of-term, after all, and exams were over; the fifth years were particularly excited as they were now done with the dreaded OWLs. Food was being found, beverages were being procured, the fire was being lit, and somebody was cranking up The Weird Sisters on the Wizarding Wireless Network. At least, this is what Ginny assumed was going on. She would have to guess, as she was nowhere near the Gryffindor common room at the moment.

Instead, she was with her brother Ron and her friends Neville and Luna, being held captive by several large and unfriendly Slytherins, all members of the Inquisitorial Squad put together by the new Hogwarts Headmistress (Headmistress!) Dolores Umbridge. Umbridge herself was nowhere in sight, which was not surprising as she had just left her office holding Ginny's other friends, Harry and Hermione, at wandpoint.

All of which led back to what Ginny found herself doing this evening, which was decidedly NOT enjoying a party. No, instead she found herself gagged and being restrained by a girl whose name she did not know, and listening to the smallest and most repulsive Slytherin in the room go on at length about his own greatness.

Draco Malfoy sat at Umbridge's desk; feet propped up, a self-satisfied sneer across his face. It had been a full five minutes, Ginny noted, since Harry and Hermione had left with Umbridge, and for no fewer than four minutes and fifty-five seconds she, Ron, Neville, and Luna, each gagged and restrained by a Slytherin, and outnumbered in total four-to-six, were stuck listening to the interminable prattling of Draco Malfoy.

"… Of course I knew exactly who it was when I heard the alarm," droned Malfoy. "Imagine. Breaking into the Headmistress' office to send a Floo message. Only that idiot Potter would be so stupid to think that he could defy the Inquisitorial Squad and get away with it, not to mention a fully qualified Ministry Official like Professor Umbridge."

Ginny fumed. This, clearly, were not the results they were hoping for when they hatched the plan to sneak Harry into Umbridge's office so he could use her fireplace to look for his godfather, Sirius Black, at 12, Grimmauld Place. Now, not only was Sirius possibly in terrible danger, but they were all looking expulsion in the face, and Harry and Hermione were marching off to Merlin-knows-where with Umbridge's wand in their backs.

As Malfoy droned on, a movement out the window caught Ginny's eye. She risked a glance, and could see Hermione marching directly across the grounds, with Harry nipping at her heels and Umbridge's squat little legs scurrying to keep up. Where were they going? Hagrid's hut? No, they walked right past it. So that must mean…

Ginny's eyes darted over to Ron to see if he had seen it, too, and his glance told her that he had figured out the same thing Ginny had: Hermione was leading Umbridge right into the Forbidden Forest.

This silent exchange went completely unnoticed by the Slytherins. Malfoy's mouth seemed to be running on a loop, and his cronies were by this point all carrying the same glazed-over, vacant expressions in their eyes. As Ginny counted it, this was the third time he had been through this particular part of his diatribe. She struggled against the grip of the girl holding her, whose name she thought might be something like "Beth" or "Blart" or "Belch", but knowing her struggles would be fruitless, she quickly stopped and reluctantly turned her attention back to Malfoy. Next he'd start in on how his father was a close personal friend of Umbridge's, she guessed.

"Of course, father and Dolores… I feel I can call her Dolores, as she is so close to the family… father and Dolores get along quite well. In fact, I'm almost certain it was his recommendation that got her …" Draco trailed off and turned his gaze to Ginny. She realized, belatedly, that she'd been laughing at Malfoy's predictable sense of self-importance through her gag.

"Something funny, Weaselette?" Malfoy's sneer turned to a look of disgust as he got up and crossed the room to Ginny in two quick strides. "I don't see anything in this room that a blood-traitor like you should be laughing at." This comment generated appreciative smirks from the assembled Slytherins, and increased struggles from Ron as he tried and failed to break free of Warrington's grasp. Not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing her react, Ginny simply met his gaze, though her pulse was pounding her anger through her temples.

"Maybe…" leered Malfoy, "you're just not familiar with the idea of a 'fully qualified' Ministry Official, seeing as how the only example you have is that pathetic failure you call a father." Ron's struggles grew more vicious. Warrington's grip drew tighter.

Ginny simply focused on breathing… in, out, in, out. Do… not… react…

"Or maybe you're laughing because you think your little boyfriend Harry Potter is going to come bursting back in here to save the day, is that it?" Malfoy leaned in to her; she could feel his breath on her face. It stank of garlic, which for some reason struck Ginny as odd. He pulled Harry's wand out from his pocket, and tucked the tip of it under Ginny's chin, raising her face level to his. "Potter," continued Malfoy, in a menacing whisper, "is finished at Hogwarts, is finished in the wizarding world, and is just plain finished. Period." Malfoy let that sink in for a moment. Ginny met his gaze, her eyes narrowed but her voice silent. Malfoy went on: "And you weasels… you're next."

Ginny wanted to pull free of the grasp that was holding her back, rip Malfoy's beady little eyes out with her bare hands, but she knew that she simply wasn't strong enough to break loose. So, she did the next best thing.

Her eyes rolling into the back of her head, Ginny Weasley's body went limp, and she fell to the floor, fainted dead away.

"What… what happened?"

"You dropped her!

"I didn't!"

"Wake her up! Wake her up!"

"What are you just standing there for? Slap her! Get some water! Do something!"

"She just fell!"

"Would somebody do something?"

"Her gag! Take her gag out!"

"No! She'll hex me!"

"You have her wand, you imbecile! Take out the gag! Oh, I'll do it. Get back!"

Eyes closed tight, lying limp, Ginny felt a pair of shaking hands quickly untie the gag that had been sealing her mouth shut. Her arms hidden under her body, she quickly slipped her right hand up her left sleeve, out of sight of the Slytherins. Still playing the role of the fainted damsel, she groggily opened her eyes to see an angry and pale Malfoy hovering directly over her. "What are you getting at?" he demanded. "Get up. Get up!"

Ginny nodded slowly, playing hazy… and then quickly pulled her real wand, not her fake Fred and George special that had been confiscated, but her actual wand out from her left sleeve, pointed it directly at Malfoy's nose, and shouted with all the force and pent-up anger she could muster, "_Chiroptera Mucosa!"_

The bat creatures exploded from Malfoy's nose with a vengeance that surprised even Ginny. Although harmless, the spectacle of a good Bat-Bogey Hex was not lost on the assembled, and the room quickly dissolved into chaos. The Slytherins automatically clambered to Mafloy's aid as he tried to wrestle the great green things off his face, screaming a high-pitched series of yelps. Ginny pointed her wand again, this time at Warrington. "_Expelliarmus!"_ Just like that, Ron had his wand back.

Ripping out his gag, Ron followed Ginny's lead with a quick "_Stupefy!_" of his own, and Warrington fell. The Slytherins, suddenly realizing they were under attack, began to clumsily draw their own wands, but they were no match for the speed of the D.A.-trained Gryffindors.

"_Stupefy!"_ Crabbe fell next, dropping Neville's wand in the process. Millicent Bulstrode tried to counter with her own stunner, but Neville ducked easily, snatching up his wand.

"_Impedimenta!"_ Neville's jinx hit its mark, Millicent's legs locked up, and she toppled over onto Crabbe's unconscious form.

All that was left were the two girls whose names Ginny couldn't place. They looked at each other, looked at the remains of the Inquisitorial Squad, and then looked at the D.A., who stood before them with their wands leveled. "Your move, then," said a smiling Ron.

Luna's captor pulled a wand out from her robes and tossed it to Luna with a gruff, "Here." She and her nameless friend then ran from the room.

"Thank you!" Luna called out after the girls, and then turned to the others. "They were ever so nice." Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance, shaking their heads.

"Absolutely," agreed Ron.

"Nice?" asked Neville.

Ron strode over to Millicent and pulled Hermione's wand out from her pocket. "Thanks much," he calmly said. "Gin?"

Ginny bent over and picked up Harry's wand from the floor where Malfoy had dropped it. She turned to Draco, still struggling with the Bat-Bogies, and said, "I'd rather be a blood-traitor than a stinking blood-elitist, my father is worth a hundred Dolores Umbridges and a thousand Lucius Malfoys, and Harry Potter is not my boyfriend!" She stomped out of the room, muttering "git" over her shoulder as she left. Ron and Neville exchanged a smirk, but Luna looked surprised.

"He's not?" she asked. "Oh, I thought he rather liked her."

"Other way around, Luna," said Ron. "C'mon!"

The four D.A. members hurtled themselves down the corridors away from Umbridge's office as fast as their legs would carry them, flush with excitement and with Ron in the lead. They had run down three staircases and two secret passages, and were passing the entranceway to the Great Hall when Ginny suddenly stopped, causing Neville to pull up short behind her, and Luna behind him. Ron stopped as well. "What's wrong?"

She had noticed something… movement behind one of the tapestries. Ginny knew there was a secret passage there; it connected a portrait downstairs near the kitchens to a broom closet not far from Gryffindor Tower.

"Wait here!" Ignoring Ron's protests, she ran to the tapestry and pulled it aside. There, halfway up the concealed stairs, were Seamus and Dean, arms laden with food they had apparently just nicked from the kitchen; clearly, they were preparing for the party. "Dean!" hissed Ginny.

The two older boys jumped. Seamus dropped a few chicken legs; they rolled down the stairs to rest at Ginny's feet. "Gin!" said Dean. "Don't do that, you'll give us a heart attack!"

"'Ello, Ginny," added Seamus. "What happened to your cheek?"

Ginny put a hand to her face and felt several deep scratches there. Somehow she must have been injured in the scuffle with the Inquisitorial Squad and not realized it, but she neither knew nor cared exactly how it had happened. She said, "Listen, Umbridge has Harry and Hermione, and they're out in the grounds right now!"

"Ginny! Come on!" Ron did not sound his usual, patient self. Ginny knew she had to act quickly, but Dean and Seamus didn't seem to be picking up on that. They just looked at each other questioningly.

"Harry's in trouble again, eh?" asked Seamus. "Hope he hasn't gone and gotten himself expelled."

"You don't understand!" said Ginny. "This is something bigger than that!"

"Like what?" asked Dean. Ginny found herself at a bit of a loss to answer. She knew it had something to do with Sirius, but she couldn't tell Dean and Seamus THAT. If only Harry, Ron and Hermione weren't so bloody secretive all the time, maybe she'd have more an idea what was going on. She stole a glance over her shoulder and was alarmed to see that even Neville looked a bit impatient.

"Look, I don't know exactly what's going on, but we have to help! That's what the D.A. is for, right?"

"Ginny! Right now! We're leaving!"

"Give me a bloody second, Ron!" She turned back to Dean. Why couldn't the pigheaded boy just understand and come on already?

But that was not to be. "Ginny," he started in. She had heard that patronizing tone many a time, having spent her entire life as a little sister. It infuriated her on the best of days.

Dean continued, "It wouldn't be a week in the life of Harry Potter if he didn't have detention. I'm sure it's nothing. Now, come on. We're having a party!"

"End of exams!" explained Seamus.

Dean nodded. "The common room, a warm butterbeer, a little quiet corner for just the two of us… " Dean grinned wickedly. "What do you say?"

For a moment the thought of relaxation, good food and drink, a little quiet (or not-so-quiet) snogging… it was appealing. Without thinking, Ginny put a foot onto the stairway, her mind tempting her with images of the cozy Gryffindor common room.

Then she thought of Sirius's crumpled body, lying in the Department of Mysteries, with Harry and Voldemort dueling over it for his life.

No. Not Voldemort. Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Harry would face Tom Riddle to save Sirius, just as he had done so to save her.

Only this time, he wasn't going to have to do it alone.

"I have to go," she said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "It's all right. Enjoy the party. Save me a butterbeer?" And with that, she was off, leaving Dean and Seamus far less jovial than they had been moments before.

She ran back to Ron, Neville and Luna, who were by now waiting in the entrance hall. "What the bloody hell was that about?" demanded Ron. "We don't have all night here, you know."

"Stuff it, Ronald," said Ginny. "Can we move?"

"That wasn't a very nice suggestion," mused Luna as Ron and Neville pulled open the castle doors.

"No, just an appropriate one," shot back Ginny, and the foursome ran out into the night.

They didn't get too far before they stopped again, however. This time it was Neville, frozen in his tracks on the grounds just beyond Hagrid's hut, the imposing visage of the Forest looming over them.

"The Forbidden Forest?" gasped Neville. "But… but Hermione wouldn't go in there. It's against the rules!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Neville, they go in there all the time."

Neville turned to Ginny, his eyes as wide as Luna's. "Well, Harry, sure, but Hermione…!"

Ron looked at Neville, grinning devilishly. For a brief moment, thought Ginny, he could almost have passed for Fred and George's triplet. Almost. "One thing you've got to understand about Hermione," said Ron, "is that she hates breaking rules… but only the rules she thinks shouldn't be broken."

"It's dangerous in there," Neville said in a hushed voice.

Ron continued. "Dangerous, right. Another thing about Hermione… she doesn't like breaking rules, but she doesn't mind taking risks. There's a reason she got sorted into Gryffindor and not Ravenclaw."

"Just like you, Nev," said Ginny, placing a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder.

Neville shook his head forlornly. "The hat should have put me in Hufflepuff," he said, a touch of resignation seeping into his voice.

"It seems to me," Luna offered, gazing wistfully at a spot somewhere well above Neville's head, "that if the Sorting Hat _should_ have put you into Hufflepuff, then it _would_ have put you into Hufflepuff." Ginny smiled at this. Clearly Luna had been sorted into the right house. "Looney" Lovegood certainly had a knack for speaking the simple truth sometimes. Most other times she was as barmy as boiled goose, of course, but sometimes…

Neville considered Luna's words for a moment. Then, he seemed to make a decision. Nodding his head briskly, he set his jaw and looked Ron in the eye. "Right," was all he said.

Ron smiled, nodded in return, and turned to the forest. As they approached, Ron again leading the way, Luna turned to Ginny and commented:

"Ronald notices an awful lot about Hermione, doesn't he?"

Ginny smirked. "The only one who doesn't notice how much Ron notices about Hermione is Ron," she replied, glancing at Luna knowingly.

But Luna simply looked at her blankly, said, "Oh, I see," and then turned her dreamlike gaze back towards the rapidly approaching forest.

Internally, Ginny scowled. A perfectly good joke at Ron's expense, wasted. _Harry would have gotten it_, she thought.

As they entered the forest thicket, Neville turned to Ron, clearly trying to keep his stiff upper lip. "So, which way do we go?"

At precisely that moment, a monstrous bellowing echoed from deep within the Forbidden Forest.

"HAGGAR!"

It stopped them in their tracks. Even Luna looked surprised, mildly. Ginny looked at her brother, silently pleading him not to take them towards whatever made that sound, but knowing that that was exactly the direction in which they were going to head. Ron returned her gaze with a smile that confirmed her fears. He then turned to look at Neville, who was now white as a sheet, upper lip stiff no more, and said, "Which way do we go? Three guesses."

With that, Ron turned and ran towards the whatever-it-was that had made the bellowing sound. To their credit, Ginny, Neville and Luna hesitated only momentarily before following, nobody daring to speak a word. Not that she was overly knowledgeable of such things, but to Ginny that had sounded an awful lot like a giant. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that, whatever else was in store that night, nothing could be worse than facing a giant.

As they ran towards Harry and Hermione and whatever else awaited them, she was almost able to convince herself that this thought was true.

_Clearly, there are things in this world that are worse than giants._

This struck Ginny as an odd thought to wake up to. Furthermore, as she lay with her eyes closed, she thought that the floor in the Department of Mysteries was far more comfortable than it had any right to be. In fact, she felt that with very little effort, she could simply sink down into the cushiony warmth surrounding her and fall right back to sleep. If only it weren't for those pesky Death Eaters…

_The Death Eaters!_

With a sharp gasp Ginny sat bolt upright, all thoughts of sleep banished from her mind, fully alert and reaching for a wand that wasn't there. It took her several confused moments to realize that she was not, as she had initially thought, on the floor in the Department of Mysteries, but that she was resting comfortably in the hospital wing at Hogwarts; at least, she had been until seconds earlier. Furthermore, there were no Death Eaters anywhere to be found; in fact, if she looked around the room, all she could see around her were a few occupied beds, and, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, looking just as startled as she felt…

"Harry?"

Harry got up and quickly strode over to her bed. "Yeah, Ginny, it's me. Are you all right? How do you feel? How's your leg?"

Ginny's head was spinning. Her leg? What happened to her leg? Was it still there? She felt down below her waist, somewhat frantically. _Yep, still attached._ So what… ?

Harry must have seen the confusion in her reaction. "Um… your ankle. You broke it. You were in the planet room, a Death Eater grabbed you, Luna used the Reductor Curse to get him off…"

"And Pluto blew up." Ginny grimaced, flexing her ankle. Felt as good as new, now. "It's starting to come back." Her head clearing, memories of her last conscious moments in the Department of Mysteries started to trickle back to her. "Luna got us out of the planet room somehow, then we were in that spinning room with the doors again, and then the brain room..." Suddenly something clicked. Ginny gasped. "The brains! Ron!" It suddenly became frighteningly obvious that she and Harry were the only two in the hospital wing. "Hermione! Luna, Neville, all of them! Are they all right? Where are they? What happened to…?"

Harry reached out a hand and touched Ginny's arm gently. "Relax. All six of us got out pretty much all right. Neville and Luna have returned to the dorms already. Ron and Hermione…" He pointed to the two occupied beds across the room. "Are resting."

Immediately, Ginny moved to jump out of bed. Her only thought was to check on her brother and her friend. Harry gently restrained her. "Ginny, no."

"Harry, you let me go right now, or I swear I'll hex you all the way to the States."

"Ginny, stop! They're fine. Madame Pomfrey says they just need rest, which is the same thing she said about you." With a faint smile, he added, "I don't plan to be the one she finds let you out of bed when she gets back."

Ginny looked around, noticing for the first time just HOW empty the room was. "Where is Madame Pomfrey? And… well, anyone else, honestly."

"Dumbledore just sent for her. He needed her help out on the grounds. I think he's found Professor Umbridge." At this, Ginny grinned wickedly. Harry managed another faint smile. "And your mum and dad are here. They spent the night. Fred and George just showed up and took them downstairs for a bite. I told them I'd keep an eye out up here."

_And you no doubt haven't moved from this room since we were brought back from the Department of Mysteries_, Ginny silently added. Aloud, she asked, "Er… has anyone else been in?"

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "The ward has been closed off to everyone, excepting emergencies. Why, expecting anyone?"

"No," Ginny replied, a bit too quickly. Dean popped into her head for a moment, but that was silly; they'd only been going out a few weeks at this point. He certainly didn't HAVE to come and see her. "No," she said, more firmly. "I was too busy lying here unconscious to really anticipate visitors, you know."

"Right. Well, you have gotten some get-well cards." Harry pointed to the table next to her, on the other side of the bed. Turning from Harry, Ginny inspected the cards. There was one from Hagrid, it looked like, and another from Colin Creevy. No surprise there. Natalie MacDonald, a second year Ginny was quite fond of, was good friends with Colin's brother Dennis, and had assured her that Colin fancied her. Poor boy.

Then there was a third card, with a goopy red heart on the cover. Grimacing only slightly, Ginny picked it up, careful not to let Harry see, and opened it, hoping desperately that it would not sing. When it thankfully remained silent, Ginny hazarded to open it all the way. It was apparently a leftover Valentine that had been conjured ever-so-slightly to say "Get Well Soon" instead of "Be My Valentine"; the charm had been cast by less than expert hands, it would seem, as the finished product actually read "Beg Weyll Soonintine", with Dean's flourished signature looking not unlike Professor Lockhart's underneath.

"Ginny?'

Jumping, Ginny quickly shoved the card under the covers, cursing herself at the same time. What did she care if Harry knew she was dating Dean? In fact, she had half a mind to giggle girlishly, say, "Look what Deany gave me!" and brandish the card in front of Harry's nose. Even as the thought crossed her mind, though, she banished it; after all, Dean had sent her a card, this was true. But Harry was the one who had sat here all night.

Turning back to Harry, Ginny was about to thank him for that, but stopped. Something wasn't right. Harry sat slumped on the bed next to her, gazing at the ground again. He seemed far too downcast, considering they were all safe, and it's not like Sirius was ever in the Department or in any sort of danger in the first place. Was he?

"Harry, what happened?" Harry didn't look at her. She tried again. "We're all safe. What happened?"

Still, Harry didn't look up. "Sirius."

Ginny gasped. "He… he WAS there?"

"No." Harry actually managed to look lower, if it was possible. "He came. Along with the rest of the Order. He came to save us."

Ginny waited patiently for Harry to go on. After a long moment, he did.

"We were fighting in the brain room when you were stunned. Neville and I ran into the next room, the one with the Veil on the dais, remember?" Ginny nodded. Harry went on. "The Death Eaters followed us, and we were about to… we had lost. We were done. That woman, Bellatrix Lestrange, she used the Cruciatus Curse on Neville…" at this Ginny gasped audibly… "… and I was going to give them the prophecy when the Order ran into the room, and then soon after, Dumbledore." Harry swallowed hard. Ginny thought from experience that he must have been swallowing back tears. "Then… that woman again… she was fighting Sirius on the dais, and he was laughing at her, and… she cursed him. Cursed him and…"

Harry stopped. Ginny was terrified to hear what had happened next, but she had to know. "Harry… Harry, please… what happened to Sirius?"

He looked up at her. His eyes were rimmed red, and though for the first time Ginny realized just how exhausted and even old he looked, no tears had fallen. "Sirius… fell through the Veil."

Tears welled up in Ginny's eyes. "Oh, no," she whispered. "So he's… he's…"

"No." The quickness and firmness with which Harry answered startled Ginny. "No. He fell through the Veil, but he's not… I mean, we don't really know what's through there, do we? The Department of Mysteries is still studying it, so it must still be… a mystery." Harry looked at her, hopefully, his eyes pleading with her to agree.

This was not good, Ginny thought. She didn't know for sure herself what was hidden behind the Veil, of course. But she knew what her instinct was telling her, and it was saying that Sirius had gone to the one place from which no magic could ever bring him back. Harry, though, did not seem ready to accept this.

"Harry," she began carefully, "I don't know what that Veil is, but I had assumed that if someone fell through it, then that would mean…"

"Sirius is not… !" Harry seemed unable to say the last word. He held Ginny's gaze, one she stubbornly held back. He may be in denial, she thought, and she may not be able to convince him of the truth, but she certainly wasn't going to pretend to accept his lie.

Moments later, Harry slumped down again. "Well, wherever he is, he's gone, and I don't know if he can ever come back." A few moments of silence passed again. Ginny was completely unsure of what she should say, or what she could say, to make Harry feel better. She decided on nothing. Eventually, Harry brought his gaze back to hers. "Ginny, I am so sorry."

"For what?"

"For bringing you down there," Harry said. "If I hadn't believed that stupid false vision, if I hadn't decided I needed to run straight to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius, none of you would ever have been in danger, and Sirius wouldn't be… missing."

Ginny snorted, in spite of herself. "There's no need to apologize to me. It's not like you forced me to come along. In fact, I think I remember you telling me not to come, as it would be too dangerous, and I refused to listen. So don't apologize on my account."

Harry replied, "Yeah, but if I had just ignored the vision in the first place, none of this would have happened. It was just a stupid dream and I went running off after it."

"Well, if you ignored 'stupid dreams', then my father would be dead now, wouldn't he?" Ginny retorted. "So don't apologize for that, either."

"Well," countered Harry, apparently determined to blame himself, "if I didn't have some bloody fixation for 'saving people', like Hermione said, for running into dangerous situations half-cocked and playing the bloody hero, then you lot and Sirius wouldn't even have needed saving."

"Well," fired back Ginny, "if you didn't have, as you call it, a 'bloody fixation' for saving people, and if you didn't run into situations half-cocked and playing the hero, then you never would have come into the Chamber of Secrets after me, and I'd likely be dead." Harry opening his mouth to respond but closed it after a moment, seemingly out of ammunition. Ginny smiled triumphantly. "It's your turn, Harry."

Harry smirked in a half smile, half frown. "Just how often are you going to throw that whole Chamber thing into my face, anyway?" he questioned.

"As many times as it works," Ginny replied smugly. More seriously, she continued. "Harry, you aren't to blame for anything. Voldemort is." He began to protest, but she stopped him. "It's true. You may have a fixation on saving lives, but he has a fixation on destroying them."

This silenced Harry. He looked away. Ginny continued, quietly. "When Voldemort… " She stopped, took a breath, and started again. "When Riddle manipulated me, he offered me friendship, and comforting words, and he promised me that people would like me. He took advantage of the worst side of my nature, my insecurities. I don't blame myself," she said as Harry turned back to her, ready to offer protests she would hear none of. "I don't blame myself because he is an evil, evil creature, and that is what he does. He manipulates innocents to get what he wants."

She stopped, and studied his face. His eyes, his mussed hair, the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Swallowing hard, she shook her head slightly to clear it, and went on. "But you… you're so good. There was no 'worst side' of your nature for him to manipulate. He took advantage of your desire to help other people, of your need to stop him. He could tempt you with nothing but the opportunity to help someone you love. That's why you can never be blamed for some evil thing he did. You might be connected to Voldemort, Harry, but you could never BE him. You are his mirror image. You're his opposite."

For a hard moment, Ginny's eyes seemed locked with Harry's. She was slightly breathless, although she had no idea why. She also wasn't sure where everything she had just said had come from, where she had come up with it. But she was unquestionably sure that it was true. It may have been her imagination, but she felt right then almost… connected to Harry, in some way. It was… surreal. Like nothing she had ever felt.

And it completely terrified her.

"Well!" she said loudly, as though to break the spell. "That's how I see it, anyway. I suppose." Harry was blinking rapidly. Vaguely, Ginny wondered if he had felt what she had felt. Determined not to dwell on the sensation, she nervously asked, "Maybe you disagree?"

Harry seemed about to respond when the doors to the hospital wing swung open. Ginny's mother and father swept in followed closely by Fred and George. "Ginny!" Molly Weasley covered the distance between the entrance and Ginny's bed in three large steps that seemed impossible for a woman of her diminutive stature. Quickly, Ginny was engulfed in the all-encompassing hugs of four extremely relieved Weasleys. When she could finally come up for air and look around, Harry had left.

Over the rest of the brief amount of time left at Hogwart's, Ginny resolved herself to cheering up Harry, as did Ron, Hermione and Neville. This proved to be difficult, however, as Harry simply did not seem to want company, never staying in one place long enough for anyone to do a proper job of cheer-upping to him. "We just have to give him time," intoned Hermione after one particularly frustrating incident. They had all seemed to be having a perfectly enjoyable chat around Ron and Hermione's beds in the hospital wing, discussing the idiots at the Ministry and taking the mickey out of Umbridge a few beds down, when Harry suddenly excused himself on the pretense that he had to go and see Hagrid. Nobody believed him, of course, but they let him go just the same. "Everyone mourns and recovers in their own way," Hermione had continued. Ginny rolled her eyes, but knew that Hermione had a point, in her practical Hermione-style. They would just have to give Harry time.

Fortunately, when it came time to board the Hogwart's Express and head home, Harry seemed considerably better, if not entirely cheered. Ginny spent the first half of the ride home in Dean's compartment with him, but when he and Seamus began having a largest-loogie contest she excused herself. It wasn't that she was disgusted, really, but it quickly became clear to her that she was going to see nothing impressive, and she was fairly certain she could beat them both with little effort, having been trained at the heels of the masters, Fred and George.

So she soon found herself in a compartment again with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville, just as she had at the beginning of the year. To her surprise, she found herself so comfortable that when the time came and went by when she told Dean she'd be back, she hardly noticed at all, and made no effort to extricate herself back to his side, choosing instead to stay right where she was and finish her magazine puzzle. Somewhere in the back of her head, she mused that she really mustn't seem like a very good girlfriend. Glancing up at Harry ever-so-slightly, she pushed that thought completely out of her brain.

She was studying the puzzle, fairly certain she was losing her mind as she was convinced the answer to question twenty-three was "Crumple Horned-Snorkack", when something Ron was saying caught her attention.

"What's – er – going on with you and her anyway?" Ron had just asked Harry, quietly. Ginny glanced up from her magazine and looked through the compartment window just in time to see Cho Chang walking away. A little voice in Ginny's head, one she had been trying to ignore for a while now, said, "_That's right. Just keep walking, dear._" She pushed the voice out of her head along with those other, earlier thoughts.

Meanwhile, Harry responded to Ron, "Nothing." Ginny smiled slightly to herself, and looked back to her puzzle, which she noticed for the first time was in an edition of _The Quibbler_. Secure in her sanity, she happily penciled "Crumple Horned-Snorkack" next to number twenty-three.

"I – er – heard she's going out with someone else now," said Hermione tentatively.

"You're well out of it, mate," said Ron forcefully. "I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that…" Ginny shook her head in amazement at her brother as she glanced at a suddenly miffed-looking Hermione; honestly, Ron had no sense. He continued, "… but you want someone a bit more cheerful."

"She's probably cheerful enough with someone else," said Harry, shrugging.

"Who's she with now?" Ron asked Hermione, but it was Ginny who answered.

"Michael Corner," she said, looking forward to what Ron's reaction to this news might be. She did so love surprising her hapless brother with startling information.

"Michael – but –" said Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. "But you were going out with him!"

"Not anymore," said Ginny resolutely. "He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead." She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, basking in the pleasantly dumbstruck look on Ron's face. Turning _The Quibbler_ upside down, she began marking her answers.

"Well…" began Ron, and Ginny glanced up. Ron sounded too happy. Why did Ron sound happy? "I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," he continued, turning back to the game of wizard chess he was playing with Harry. "Good for you. Just choose someone – better – next time." As he said this, he cast a meaningful look in Harry's direction.

Ginny was horrified. Horrified. A quick glance at Hermione showed that her horror was shared. Struggling, she kept her face completely neutral, and with her blood boiling she said to Ron, as vaguely as she could manage, "Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?"

"WHAT?" shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Ginny looked down at her puzzle again, and it was only through sheer force of will that her cheeks did not turn as red as her hair. How dare he… the utter nerve… the sheer stupidity… he was mental! All this time she had spent convincing Harry, convincing everyone; hell, convincing HERSELF that her schoolgirl crush on "The Boy Who Lived" was over… and here her foolish, nincompoop, prat of a brother practically broadcasts to the entire compartment that she should "choose" Harry! As if Harry would be interested, even if she were, which she very well wasn't!

_Are you sure?_

That damned voice again… she pushed it down out of her mind. She hadn't meant to drop the "Dean Thomas" surprise now, like this, but Ron had just made her so angry… suddenly, a new thought struck her. She snuck a look over her magazine, casting a furtive glance in Harry's direction… but he seemed to either have missed Ron's implication or was ignoring it like a champion, and he furthermore seemed positively unfazed by the news that Ginny was dating Dean.

A twinge of disappointment hit Ginny's stomach when she realized this, and she angrily pushed that sensation down alongside the little voice.

As the train slowed down in its approach to King's Cross, Ginny realized that she had better go and say goodbye to the boy who had unwittingly caused such trouble in the first place. She hurried down the corridor to Dean's compartment, and after everyone had cleared out and the hallway was sufficiently empty, they spent an enjoyable five minutes snogging their good-byes. This, Ginny realized as she stepped off the train just a little bit more rumpled than she had been moments before, was precisely what the healer had ordered to clear her head and silence small voices. Hurrying down the platform, trunk in tow, she caught up with Harry, Ron and Hermione just as they got the go-ahead to pass through the magical entrance between platforms nine and ten. As they crossed through to another summer, Ginny tried hard to forget that Harry Potter was going to be spending large portions of it with her family at the Burrow. This, she told herself firmly, would not be a problem, as she was clearly no longer interested in him.

In an unrelated corner of her mind, she wondered if it were possible to snog with Dean via the Floo Network. Just in case she needed to do anymore head clearing before returning to Hogwarts in the fall.


	2. Chapter 1: Summer's Start

Ginny stomped around Fred and George's room as thoroughly as she could. If the rest of the inhabitants of The Burrow weren't aware of her displeasure before, she would make damn sure they'd all be aware of it now.

Of course, she wasn't sure HOW anyone else in the house could be unaware of Ginny's displeasure. She had expressed it quite clearly over the past two weeks.

Two weeks! They'd only been home from school for two weeks, and already this summer had all the earmarks of possibly the worst ever, which would be quite a feat considering they had been stuck at Number 12, Grimmauld Place for most of the previous summer.

It began at dinner the first night home. The family conversation was going quite pleasantly, when Bill cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

"Well," he began, turning to Ron and Ginny, "I have an announcement for the two of you." Their parents suddenly became quite interested in what they were eating, while Fred and George, grinning widely, set down their forks as if they did not want to miss a moment of what was to come.

"The rest of the family knows," continued Bill, "but I wanted to tell the two of you in person. So..." he smiled broadly. "Fleur and I have become engaged."

"Wow..." said an amazed Ron.

"What?!" exclaimed a horrified Ginny.

Bill smirked. "Thanks, Ginger Snap."

This hadn't been the best of it, of course. Bill and her mum had gone on to explain that Fleur would be arriving in England by Portkey within a few days, having gotten a part-time job at Gringotts, and that she would be staying at The Burrow getting to know the family and "working on her English." At this point Ginny had muttered to Fred, "I expect the only thing English she'll be working on will be Bill." In spite of her annoyance with the overall situation, she had to admit that the explosion of Pumpkin Juice this comment triggered from Fred's nose was one of her proudest moments.

The impending French invasion meant that Ginny had spent the next several days cleaning. The intention of this, she was certain, was to show Ms. Delacour that The Burrow at Ottery St. Catchpole was indeed a hotbed of social activity. _Sure it is, _Ginny thought sourly to herself. _If you happen to fancy old wellington boots, garden gnomes, and Muggle plugs. _

The grossest indignity of all, however, came when her mother had informed her of the new sleeping arrangements. "Now, Ginny..." she began at breakfast on the morning before Fleur's arrival, "we want Fleur to be comfortable."

"You mean Phlegm?"

"Ginevra..." her mother had said warningly, but Ginny caught an unmistakable smirk curling around the corner of her lips. "Anyway, we want... Fleur... to be as comfortable as possible, so we're going to be gracious hosts, and she will sleep in your room."

"She will do no such thing!" Ginny quickly protested.

"She will," shot back her mother. "It's the closest room to Bill's, and Bill thought it would help her feel better about the whole thing."

"What's the point?" fired Ginny. "You put her that close to Bill's room and she won't be sleeping in mine, anyway."

"Ginny!" gasped her mother. From the table, Ron guffawed as he helped himself to a third serving of eggs.

"It'll be fun, Gin," he chimed in. "You girls can have sleepovers. You know, you can do her hair, do her nails, hex her in her sleep, that sort of thing."

Ginny glowered at Ron's grinning face. "I will not share a room with her."

"Of course not," tut-tutted Mrs. Weasley. "You'll sleep in Percy's room."

"Why not Fred and George's room?"

"Because, dear, Hermione will sleep in there."

"So I'll sleep in the other bed!"

"No, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley, with the air of one trying to explain simple wandwork to a very small child. "When Harry gets here, he'll take the other bed."

"Oh, really?" crowed Ginny. It was now her turn to glance at Ron's horrified face. "Harry will shack up with Hermione, then?" she asked with a grin.

"Honestly, Ginny." Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips, looking very cross. "Don't go believing that terrible Rita Skeeter. There is absolutely nothing of that nature going on between the two of them!"

"I don't know, mum," Ginny said with mock seriousness. "I think there may be more there than the two of them are letting on." She threw a quick wink at Ron, but reading what he was muttering on his lips and seeing his hand moving towards his wand, she decided to change the subject. "How come Harry doesn't sleep in Percy's room and then I can sleep in the twin's with Hermione?"

"Because they are guests!" exclaimed an exasperated Mrs. Weasley. "Fred and George's room is empty, and all of Percy's things are still in his for when he... comes back." An awkward silence descended upon the kitchen, and then Mrs. Weasley quickly remembered she had to go upstairs for a load of laundry, leaving Ron and Ginny by themselves in the kitchen.

"Reckon she'll ever figure out Percy's not coming back?" muttered Ron.

"You really think he's never coming back?" asked Ginny.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Doesn't look great though, does it?" Ron stood up and brought his dishes to the sink. "I mean, even if we all make up with him, he's of age now, isn't he? Probably shouldn't be living at home, anyway. Still..." Ron said no more. There was no need.

Narrowing her eyes with a smirk, Ginny glanced at him. "Well. I certainly hope Harry and Hermione have a good time sharing a room. A very good time, if you know what I mean."

Ron scowled. "No, actually, I don't, so why don't you just shut up about it? Besides, wouldn't you just love to sleep in there with Harry."

Ginny crossed her arms. "I have a boyfriend, thank you very much." Ron took on an expression of mock-surprise.

"Really? You do? Who is that? Oh, yes, Dean Whasisname, right? Say, how often do you talk to ol' Dean, huh?"

Internally, Ginny cursed herself. She hadn't sent Dean an owl since they had returned home from Hogwarts. She kept meaning to, of course... Changing the subject, she snapped at Ron, "I bet you'd love to share a room with Fleur, wouldn't you?"

"So what? You want to share one with the ghoul in the attic!"

"Bugger off, Ron, I'd never share a room with you!"

"Like I'd want to..."

"RONALD! GINEVRA! ENOUGH!"

"Yes, mum," they called together up the stairs. Ron gave Ginny a nasty gesture, she stuck her tongue out at him, and they went their separate ways.

Ginny always did like Ron best.

Soon Fleur arrived, and much though she loathed the condescending presence of the French beauty, Ginny had to begrudgingly admit one thing: Fleur was the best passive-aggressive giver of backhanded compliments she'd ever met. She did not call the Burrow "disgusting", as Ginny thought she would. Fleur instead declared that it was "charming, 'een a back-woods sort of way." Mrs. Weasley's food was not "'ideous"; instead, it was "as good as the soup the servants at 'ome make themselves 'een the basement kitchen!" Ginny was not, in Fleur's eyes, "plain", but "nearly as beautiful as my leetle seester Gabrielle, 'oo is just nearly ten!" And then, of course, there was her constant fawning and preening and grooming... of Bill. It was enough to make one heave.

Things improved a few days later when Hermione arrived, but as much fun as it was to have her around, it meant that Ron was reduced to a mooning idiot. The only one oblivious to this, of course, was Hermione, although she did insist to Mrs. Weasley that she didn't need to sleep in the twin's room with Harry, and a hastily conjured cot in Percy's room where Ginny had already settled in would be just fine. Although he said nothing about it, this seemed to please Ron immensely, and he walked around whistling for a good hour after that particular decision had been made.

And then the whole cycle started all over as Ginny's mother recruited her to help clean the entire house, again, in preparation of Harry's arrival. Ginny hardly saw the point of this and she said so to her mother the evening before Harry arrived. "Harry doesn't care what the house looks like!" she protested. "The place could be overrun with garden gnomes and owl dung and it would be a step up from those awful Muggles he lives with!"

"That may be so," agreed Mrs. Weasley, pointedly ignoring the fact that on the sofa next to her Fleur seemed for all the world to be chewing on a particularly delectable portion of Bill's ear. "But the house is NOT overrun by garden gnomes or covered in owl mess, so Harry will have fresh sheets on his bed, and you are going to put them there, young lady, and that is that!"

So this is how Ginny now found herself in the twin's room, stomping around as she put fresh sheets onto Harry's bed and generally making her displeasure known. She had put the chore off for most of the night, and took pleasure in knowing that the late hour made her expression of displeasure all the more unpleasant. She had just finished up Harry's bed, and was headed back to Percy's to stomp around some more, when a loud CRACK rang out and the world turned upside down as she found herself knocked off of her feet.

Pulling out her wand, she scrambled to her feet and spun around awkwardly to face her assailant, only to find herself face-to-face with a snowy owl in a cage.

"Who?" sputtered Ginny.

"Who?" replied Hedwig.

At that moment, the door to the room burst open. "_Expelliarmus!"_ Ginny's wand went flying out of her hand. Hermione stood in the doorway with Ron right behind her, her wand drawn. Apparently, she had decided to hex first and ask questions later. "Are you all right, Ginny? We heard someone Apparate in here!"

"I'm all right, Hermione," Ginny assured her friend. "It was just Hedwig." She looked away from the owl to the large object that had appeared directly under her, knocking her over. "And Harry's trunk."

"Blimey!" Ron said. "Gave us a start. Doesn't he know he's not supposed to use magic out of school by now? Is he trying to get expelled? And do owls really make such a loud noise when they get… sent?"

"Obviously so, Ron, or it wouldn't have happened. They are living things, after all. And Harry didn't send Hedwig and his trunk here," Hermione discoursed, "It must have been Professor Dumbledore."

Ron looked confused. "Why's Dumbledore got Harry's things?"

"Because he's with Harry, you great prat," huffed Ginny.

"Honestly, Ron," added Hermione, "don't you listen to a word your mother says?"

"Did she say it at dinner?"

"Yes."

"Then, no."

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Ronald, you are absolutely brilliant, do you know that?" Ginny said between giggles.

"Yes," said Ron, nodding seriously. "So why is Dumbledore with Harry, anyways?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, thoughtfully. "I suppose it could have something to do with…" she glanced at Ginny nervously.

"The prophecy?" Ginny asked drolly. "Hermione, I know you lot don't like to tell anyone anything ever, but I was there with you getting almost killed in the, oh, what was that room again? You know, the big one with all of the prophecies in it? Oh, yes, it was the Hall of Prophecies. I can put two and two together, you know."

Ron shook his head and turned to Hermione. "She's impossible when she gets like this, you know. Just bloody impossible."

"Ronald! Language!" Hermione chided. She turned to Ginny and said, apologetically, "I know we sometimes keep things to ourselves…"

"You're as bad as the Order, you three…" muttered Ginny. Hermione plowed on.

"Ron and I don't always know much, either. It's mostly all Harry's secrets to share, you know, and…" she looked to Ron for help. He turned to his sister.

"It isn't our place to share them, Gin," he said with true sympathy.

Ginny sighed. "I know," she admitted.

"And it's not that Harry doesn't trust you, Ginny," Hermione quickly added. "He just…"

Ginny cut her off. "Hermione, Harry doesn't owe me any explanations. I understand, really. Believe me, I know the weight he has on his shoulders. I mean, I don't KNOW it," she self-corrected, her gaze drifting out the window, "as you lot won't TELL me about it, but I can imagine."

For a moment, they sat in silence. The small clock in the corner of the room chimed midnight. Ginny wondered when it had gotten so late. She involuntarily shuddered as a sudden chill washed over her from somewhere.

She looked back at Ron and Hermione. "I just wish you would realize that Hogwarts isn't the non-stop series of adventures for the rest of us that it seems to be for the three of you. Honestly, sometimes I get the feeling you forget it's a school. Even you, Hermione!" she added before her friend could protest. "I mean, it isn't all about three-headed dogs and Wizarding Tournaments and hidden passageways and secret…"

She stopped speaking so suddenly that if her words had been on a broom they would have gotten whiplash. She had almost said "secret chambers" but caught herself, although it seemed she had not done so quickly enough as Ron and Hermione shared a nervous glance. Not wanting them to remind her just how full of "adventure" her first year at Hogwarts had been she turned her attention to Hedwig, moving to open her cage.

"Careful, Ginny!" Hermione said quickly. "She doesn't really take well to anyone but Harry." But Ginny ignored her and, cooing softly, opened the cage. Without a moment's hesitation, the owl hopped onto Ginny's outstretched arm and then to her shoulder, nipping her ear affectionately before flying to the top of the wardrobe.

"Well I'll be…" said Ron, awed. Hermione too looked slightly amazed. "She always tries to snap my finger off when I get too close."

"That's because you smell rather badly," Ginny said pleasantly as she opened the window for Hedwig. The owl, however, did not budge. "Going to wait for Harry, then?" Ginny asked her. Hedwig responded with a hoot and a click that somehow sounded affirmative. "Well, don't worry," Ginny assured her, smiling. "He'll be here soon."

Ginny wasn't sure how she could tell or how it was possible, but Hedwig seemed somehow pleased by this news; Ginny was quite sure of it. She wasn't sure, however, why the thought of Harry's imminent arrival brought a pleasant swooping sensation to her own stomach.

_Oh_, said the little voice in the back of her head. _That's because you fancy him._

She barely heard it. She had grown quite skilled at ignoring the little voice in the back of her head.


	3. Chapter 2: Something Flowery

The sun was already high in the sky by the time Ginny woke the following morning. All of her late-night stomping had taken far more out of her than she thought, it seemed. Still half asleep, she slipped out of bed into her slippers, out of Percy's room and into the hall. She noticed that the door to Fred and George's room directly across the hall was closed. For a moment this struck her as odd, as she groggily remembered leaving it open the night before, but the thought slid out of her head before she could decide if it was important and she padded down the stairs to the kitchen.

Ginny's mother was cleaning up from breakfast while Ron, Hermione and Fleur were seated around the table. Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet as Fleur and Ron talked; actually, Fleur was talking and Ron was contributing a continuous stream of enlightened observations along the lines of, "Uh-huh" and "You don't say" and "Too right!"

"Morning," mumbled Ginny as she slid into the seat next to Hermione.

Ron turned away from Fleur. "Morning?" he asked. "May want to check a clock, Gin."

"I tried," she yawned. "But the only one we have keeps saying that it's 'Mortal Peril' o'clock."

"Good morning, young lady," said her mum sternly. "I suppose you overtired yourself stomping around up in the twin's room last night like a child?"

"Was zat you?" squealed a delighted Fleur. "I thought eet was zee ghoul in zee attic!"

"A common mistake," observed Ron. Both Hermione and Ginny shot him a dirty look. Neither of them much appreciated him siding with Fleur. Fleur did not seem to notice, as she continued on airily.

"Eet was such a racket," she said. "I could barely hear Bill wheespering in my ear, and hee was lying right next to me!"

"As long as you're comfortable," mumbled Ginny as her mother placed a plate of eggs in front of her. "Thank, mum." Ginny began to eat, but as she was still half asleep, it was a slow process. Hermione watched her warily as she twice threatened to fall face first onto her plate.

"Er… perhaps some coffee, too, Ginny?" asked Hermione. Ginny nodded, and yawned again.

From the living room, the fireplace suddenly roared to life. Everyone's head turned as the sound of somebody popping out of the Floo was immediately followed by the voice of Ginny and Ron's father. "Anyone home?"

Arthur Weasley strode into the kitchen. He looked, as usual, fairly harried, but that was not uncommon for Ministry of Magic employees these days, dealing as they were with the "official" reemergence of Voldemort. Her father's appearance at The Burrow so early in the day injected a fair amount of tension into the room, as did anything even slightly out of the ordinary these days. "What's wrong?" her mother quickly asked, and Ginny could tell in her voice that she anticipated the worst.

"Nothing, nothing," Arthur Weasley assured his wife. "Just here on a bit of 'Official Ministry Business'." At this, he chuckled. He turned to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. "Mafalda Hopkirk from the Improper Use of Magic Office popped by to see me earlier today," began her father, trying to look stern. "Apparently there was a case of underage magic use in The Burrow last night. Did any of you three perform magic here yesterday? Or should I go and ask the usual suspect upstairs?"

The usual suspect upstairs? Ginny wondered what he was talking about. There was a gasp to her left. Turning, she saw that Hermione had turned deathly pale. "Oh, no!" she squeaked, hand over her mouth. "I performed the disarming charm last night!"

"The disarming charm?" asked Mrs. Weasley, confused. "Whatever for?"

"Well, Harry's things appeared in Fred and George's room, and when they did there was a loud noise, and we knew Ginny was in there, and Ron and I ran in, and I expected the worst, so I didn't even think, and I cast _Expelliarmus_ as soon as I opened the door! Oh, no! I'm going to be expelled! They've expelled me, haven't they?" Ginny was impressed; Hermione had gotten all of that out in one breath.

"They're not going to expel you," Ron scoffed, but then turned to his father, concerned. "Are they?"

"I wouldn't think so," their father said jovially. He seemed rather to be enjoying this. "They're not expelling or arresting underage magic users these days for something as simple as _Expelliarmus_. 'Constant vigilance' is the order of the day at the Ministry now. Mad-Eye has never been happier, as far as Mad-Eye is ever happy, that is," he added.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley!" said Hermione, although the color was already returning to her cheeks. "I just didn't think…"

"No need to apologize, dear," said Ginny's mum, patting Hermione on the shoulder as she placed some coffee down in front of the still-not-quite-awake Ginny. "Nobody blames you for defending yourself when you think you're in trouble, not with all that's going on."

"But Mafalda Hopkirk…!"

"Just wanted me to remind you to only use magic when it is entirely necessary, and even then to be sure about it," finished Mr. Weasley. "No harm done, Hermione. After all," he chuckled, "if Harry hasn't been expelled yet, well, you have a good long while to go before you catch up with his violation sheet." Mr. Weasley glanced up the steps. "Is he up yet?"

"No," replied Ginny's mum. "I suspect he's exhausted, the poor dear. Now what's the latest at the Ministry, Arthur?"

As the wispy haze of sleep steadily cleared from her brain, Ginny noted this was the second time her father had made mention of somebody sleeping upstairs. It couldn't be Bill, though; he was up and out of the house for Gringott's before anyone in the mornings. Charlie wasn't due home until Harry's birthday, Fred and George had their own place, if Percy had returned she was sure somebody would have mentioned it before now…

Ginny turned her sleep-ridden, bed-haired head towards her father. "Is who up yet?"

The conversation had moved well on. All the faces in the room turned to her, confused. "I'm sorry, Ginger Snap?" her father asked.

"Is who up yet?" Ginny repeated.

"Harry," replied her mother.

"But," said a confused Ginny, "he's not coming until later today. Isn't he?"

"He showed up last night," said her father. "Dumbledore brought him."

"He's in Fred and George's room," added Hermione.

"It's not that hard to grasp, baby sister," finished Ron. Fleur laughed at this, and he looked delighted.

It wasn't unheard of, of course. Harry got here a day early, that's all. Ginny sat at the table in her pyjamas, her hair unkempt, with the coffee mug lifted halfway to her lips and her brain refusing to start. Around her, the conversation continued, as her father was telling a story about confiscating Invisibility Potions that worked in reverse, rendering the world around the drinker invisible instead of making invisible the drinker themselves.

Hermione leaned over to Ginny, a small smile on her lips, and said quietly, "Perhaps a shower, then?"

Ginny scowled at her. "Oh, sod off," she grumbled. Hermione went back to her paper, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips. After a moment, Ginny pushed away from the table with a sigh, her breakfast half-eaten, and went off to shower.

One shower later, she stood back in Percy's room, dressed, brushing her hair, and staring with contempt at a small crystal bottle on the dresser. It contained perfume. Very expensive, very French perfume. It had been an annoyingly thoughtful gift from Fleur upon her arrival, a thank-you-for-letting-me-into-your-home-even-though-I'm-an-obnoxious-French-trollop sort of a gift.

The worst part about the gift? It was absolutely delectable.

Normally Ginny loathed such things as jewelry and perfume. Growing up as the only girl in a house full of boys had something to do with that, surely. But this fragrance was infuriatingly perfect, a subtle mixture of spring rain and wildflowers that was not overpowering, but had a definite presence. Ginny loved it, and she hated that she loved it. It was French, and it was expensive, it was decidedly feminine without being overtly girlish, it very well may have been the nicest, fanciest thing she had ever owned… and it was a gift from the biggest cow in the world.

Life just wasn't fair sometimes. Honestly.

She finished brushing her hair. She looked at the bottle. She walked to the door. She placed her hand on the knob. She turned back to the bottle. She turned the doorknob. She let go of the doorknob. She walked back to the dresser. She picked up the bottle. She took of the cap. She sniffed.

It was like stupid bloody heaven.

Ginny sighed. "Oh, well," she muttered. "One does want a splash of femininity from time to time." Quickly, she sprayed the fragrance into the air and then walked into the cloud of mist. She thought she had heard somewhere that this was the way to do it; she was not an expert by any means.

Stepping back, she experimentally took a quick sniff. Merlin, that was lovely. She felt a sudden shot of annoyance at Fleur for getting her such a wonderful gift. Who did that girl think she was, getting her a present that made it so much harder to hate her? Somehow, it made Ginny loathe her just a little bit more. Fleetingly, she realized that this reaction made no logical sense, and she wondered if she was going crazy. Then she remembered sitting and watching Phlegm gnawing away on Bill's ear. Her moment of sympathy passed. What an ugly bore.

"Ginny?"

Ginny spun around. Fleur was standing in the doorway, busying herself in the task of being effortlessly beautiful. She delicately sniffed the air, an act that she made seem as graceful and choreographed as a ballet. "Ooo! You are wearing zee perfume I picked out for you!" She smiled, and it was if a hundred diamonds had reflected their brilliance into the room.

Ginny's face burned red. In Fleur's presence she felt embarrassed about the thoughts she'd been having, especially in light of what was a truly generous gift. "Er, Fleur," she started, intending to thank her properly. "The perfume is…"

"Eesn't it wonderful?" interrupted Fleur. "Eet ees the same type of perfume my seester Gabrielle wears!" Ginny's mouth snapped shut. Her newly found good will towards Fleur was quickly on the decline. "That is, she used to wear eet. She said last year she 'as outgrown it! You 'ave not, I think?" Ginny's tongue hurt from the biting of it. "Ah, well, I am off! I am bringing 'Arry's breakfast to 'im!" With that, she had spun on 'er 'eel and 'eaded towards the kitchen.

Ginny felt as though she had been punched in the face, and she realized that she seemed to be growling a little bit. Fuming, she opened the door of Percy's room and heard familiar voices emanating from Fred and George's. Hermione was asking, "So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?" Then came the response.

"Dunno. He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?" It was Harry.

The sound of his voice brought only the tiniest twinge to Ginny's stomach in her agitated state, a twinge that was by this point in her life easily ignored. She slouched into Fred and George's room, where she found Ron, Hermione and Harry deep in conversation. "I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," she said, not bothering to hide the irritation in her voice. "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

Ginny explained. Hermione was sympathetic, Ron defended Fleur, and Harry seemed to not know what they were talking about for several long moments. Ginny's mood was further worsened by the appearance of Phlegm alongside her mother, swooping into the room to give "'Arry" his breakfast, and made even worse by the reappearance of her mother a few moments later.

"Ginny," she whispered, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" said Ginny, outraged.

"Now!" said Mrs. Weasley, and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" Ginny said crossly. She swung her long red hair around the room in a very good imitation of Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina. "You lot had better come down quickly, too," she said as she left. Once outside, she sulked down the steps and into the kitchen where her mother was busying herself with lunch preparation and Fleur was lazily waving her wand at a piece of paper, cutting it midair into an intricate floral design. It would have been beautiful if Ginny weren't so sick of the girl.

"Here you go, dear." Ginny's mum floated a basket of potatoes over to the counter along with a peeler. Not yet old enough to use magic outside of school, Ginny would have to peel them the Muggle way. Grumbling, she picked up the peeler and got to work. Her mother didn't even turn to her. "And what, precisely, is the problem, Ginevra?"

"You dragged me out of there just when things were getting interesting!" huffed Ginny. "Now I'm going to be left out of the conversation, again!"

"Now, dear," reminded her mother. "They've been through a lot together. Let them have their privacy."

"I've been through it, too," snapped Ginny. "Or did you forget that I was at the Department of Mysteries too?"

"I did not," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "And I'm still very disappointed in you about that. You of all people should know how dangerous it is to wander places you shouldn't be." With this, her mother turned her attention back to the intricate sandwiches she was piling up in front of her without another word.

Ginny stared at her mother, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She of all people… ? "The Chamber…" she goggled. "The Chamber wasn't my fault!"

"I know, dear," said her mother, soothingly. "Still, I expect you to exercise a little more caution. Yes, I realize you can be excitable, and heaven knows from where you inherited your temper…"

A derisive giggle emanated from Fleur. Ginny glanced at her to see that she was looking pointedly at Mrs. Weasley. Reluctantly, Ginny had to agree: she knew precisely where her temper came from, and it wasn't from her father.

Not hearing Fleur's reaction, or at least pretending not to, her mum pressed on. "But those three will go running into whatever danger lies in front of them without a thought," she continued. "You'd think Hermione would keep them seeing reason, but she's as bad as anyone from what I can tell. She and Ron both follow Harry's lead. If only that boy would stop playing at the hero once in awhile…"

Suddenly, Fleur chimed in. "'Ee is not playing, I think," she protested hotly. "'Arry IS a 'ero. To ask 'im to stop would be to ask 'im to be untrue to 'imself." While Ginny silently agreed with Fleur, the little voice in her head sniffed haughtily. _I believe you are engaged to my brother, Ms. Hoity-Toity French Girl_, the voice huffed. _How about you stop fawning all over Harry? _Very rationally, Ginny determined that the voice was only speaking up in defense of Bill's honor.

But Fleur had not stopped. "Why," she continued, "if 'Arry were not such a 'ero, my little seester Gabrielle…"

"Oh, stop it," said Ginny. "Your sister was not going to die in that lake, and you know it. Professor Dumbledore would have made sure none of the hostages in the Triwizard Tournament were in any real danger."

Although seated, Fleur managed to fix Ginny with a gaze that made her feel for all the world that the French beauty was towering twelve feet over her. ""Eet ees the thought that counts," she said coldly, and turned her attention back to her floral designs, to which she was now adding brilliant colors and shimmering gemlights with agitated flicks of her wand.

For the next several minutes, Ginny and her mother chatted pleasantly about the upcoming school year and the invite list for Harry's birthday tea; it would be a small gathering, considering all the security wards and restrictions currently in place over The Burrow. The conversation carried on this way until they were suddenly interrupted by a piercing scream from upstairs.

Mrs. Weasley spun round, her hand reaching for her wand. "Don't," said Ginny, barely looking up. "I expect Hermione remembered just now that their O.W.L. results are due today."

Sure enough, within moments, a highly flustered Hermione appeared in the kitchen sporting a comically exaggerated black eye and followed closely by Ron. Hermione's agitated stage was not helped by the glittering bell peal of Fleur's laughter; Hermione and Ginny both glared daggers at her.

"Hermione, dear!" Ginny's mum exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Fred and George happened," Ron said, barely suppressing a grin.

"Well, you sit down here, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, maternally steering Hermione to the kitchen table. "We'll have that fixed in no time." She perused the bookshelf pulled down a dog-eared copy of _The Healer's Helpmate_. "Now, let's see what Lockhart has to say on the subject…"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione groaned.

"Oh, yes. Now let me see…"

Even as she and Ron exchanged amused glances, Ginny couldn't help but feel sorry for Hermione. The twin's pranks were hard enough to undo without utilizing "advice" from their insufferably useless former professor. True enough, by the time Harry entered the kitchen ten minutes later, Hermione's eye looked no better; in fact, Ginny was almost certain it looked worse. Harry gave her a quizzical look, and Ginny chuckled. "It'll be Fred and George's idea of a joke, making sure it won't come off," she said, fairly uselessly. They all settled in to watch Mrs. Weasley's futile ministrations with some amusement, while ignoring Fleur's thinly veiled barbs at Hogwarts and enjoying Hermione's dual consternation about her blackened eye and the impending O.W.L. results, of which she was sure she failed the lot.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before Hermione screamed, pointing out the window, and Ron, standing next to her, said, "They're definitely owls." Ginny glanced over his shoulder. Three black specks were quickly growing in the distance.

"And there are three of them," said Harry, brushing past Ginny to get to Hermione's other side.

Hermione seemed near panic, repeating to herself, "Oh no… oh no… oh no…" Ginny rolled her eyes. The only person in the Wizarding world who thought there was even the remotest possibility that Hermione had failed any of her O.W.L.s was named Hermione Granger.

Soon enough, the Hogwarts owls flew into the kitchen; all three of the older students opened their envelopes with trepidation. Harry and Ron seemed pleased with their results overall, but Ginny kept a close eye on Hermione, who had turned her back to the kitchen and was trembling slightly. It wasn't possible, was it? But supposing the pressure of the examinations had gotten to her, and she had cracked during the testing, and nobody had realized… "Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively. "How did you do?"

The kitchen grew silent as everyone looked to Hermione. She took a deep breath and, in a small voice, said, "I – not bad."

"Oh, come off it." Ron strode forward and snatched her results out of her hand. "Yep. Ten "Outstandings" and one "Exceeds Expectations" in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You're actually disappointed, aren't you?" he said with a shake of his head and a smile. Hermione shook her head, and Harry and Ginny both laughed.

"Well, we're N.E.W.T. students now!" grinned Ron. "Mum, are there any more sausages?"

The kitchen returned to its usual boisterous state. Ron ate as his mother fussed over his grades, Hermione began to dissect her test results with anyone who would listen, and Fleur waved her hand dismissively and went on another lengthy diatribe meant to expound the virtues of Beauxbatons versus the failings of Hogwarts. Ginny was about to climb back up the stairs to her room when she noticed that Harry had turned back to his grades, studying them. He looked just the slightest bit crestfallen. Puzzled, she slipped to his side.

"All right?" she asked. He looked up; he seemed to not have noticed her until just then.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't see you there, Ginny."

She smiled. "That seems fairly impressive of me; can't be too many people who can sneak up on 'The Boy Who Lived', can there?" He smiled back, but didn't respond. She glanced down at his results. "Good marks," she said, and meant it.

He folded up the paper. "Not good enough, though." He seemed to say this with some regret.

Ginny didn't understand. "Not good enough for what?" she asked, but Harry just shook his head with a wry smile.

"It's not important," he said. "Really," he added. He could apparently tell she was about to protest. "I'm happy with them, I am. Really, Ginny, I swear. Please don't hex me!"

She regarded him with narrowed eyes. She did not like the getting the brush-off, again, for the hundredth time, but his moment of melancholy seemed to have passed quickly. "All right," she said. "But those marks were at least good enough for Ron to copy off of you and pass."

"Ron doesn't copy off of me, Gin," said Harry, seeming stunned that she would accuse her brother of such a thing.

"Oh, no?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," he said firmly, and then smiled. "He copies off of Hermione."

Ginny nodded officiously. "That would make more sense."

Smiling, Harry punched her lightly on the arm. "Thanks a lot," he said. Ginny just shrugged; it was true, after all.

"How about it, you two?" Harry and Ginny looked over to Ron, who was happily eating a plate of sausages while Hermione made little disgusted sounding noises. "Play a match of two-a-side Quidditch after second breakfast? Hermione says she'll give it a go."

This equally surprised Harry and Ginny. "Really?" asked Ginny incredulously.

Hermione shrugged. "Sure," she said, far more relaxed now that the grading crisis has passed. "After all, how difficult could it be if you lot play it?" Ginny grinned.

Harry turned back to Ron. "Two-a-side? How do you even do that?"

"Very awkwardly," Ginny said decisively.

"S'not tat bed," Ron said with a mouthful of sausage. He swallowed. "The Keeper plays Seeker and the Chasers carry the Bludger bat."

"No, Ron," corrected Ginny. "The Seeker carries the bat and the Chasers double as the Keeper."

"But how…" began Harry. Ginny cut him off.

"Don't worry about it," she assured him. "No matter who plays what position, it all ends up a bloody confusing mess anyway."

"That's right!" chimed in Ron. "It's loads of fun!" Harry shrugged, and helped himself to a sausage off of Ron's plate. Hermione was beginning to look worried.

"Maybe I should sit this out…" she began weakly, but Ron immediately protested.

"We can't play with just three, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "Look, you can be on Harry's side, all right? He's the best player here."

"Excuse me?" Ginny's tone caused Hermione and Harry to look at her with some alarm, but Ron waved it off.

"Come off it," he scoffed. "Honestly. You'd think she fancies herself to be a professional Quidditch player or something. Right. Me and Ginny against Hermione and Harry. Sound good, mate?"

"That's fine," said Harry. He reached for another sausage, but stopped halfway. He sniffed the air.

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione.

"Nothing," said Harry, although he seemed puzzled. "I just thought…" he trailed off, and sniffed the air again. He looked around. "Does anyone else smell something flowery?"

Ron shook his head and went back to his sausages. A moment later, Harry did the same. Hermione sniffed the air thoughtfully, and then glanced at Ginny, who at that moment realized what Harry had smelled and threw a horrified look across the table where Phlegm, who had been sitting there quietly all of this time, was looking directly at Ginny, her dazzling white grin stretching from ear to ear.

Before going out to play Quidditch, Ginny slipped up to the washroom to wash off the perfume. Her skin clearly was having a reaction to it, as her face had suddenly gotten very red and very hot.

_Yes_, said the voice in her head, with a bit more sarcasm than she cared for. _You had a reaction to the perfume. Clearly._

Ginny gently told the voice that it would shut up if it knew what was good for it.


	4. Chapter 3: TwoaSide Sports

**Chapter 3: Two-a-Side Sports**

"I just don't understand it at all," sighed Hermione.

Ginny looked at her friend, eyes wide open in surprise. They had spent much of the past two weeks in the orchard playing two-a-side Quidditch, and she had just gotten used to the unusual sight of Hermione bobbing around unsteadily on a broom. To now hear her declare in a very un-Hermione fashion that she did not understand something just about caused Ginny to fall off of hers.

"What don't you understand?" she asked.

"This stupid game!" cried Hermione. "I mean, real Quidditch is bad enough. But two-a-side? It makes no sense!"

Ginny smiled. This, she understood Hermione not understanding. "Yes, it's complicated," Ginny began patiently. They had been trying to explain this variation of the game to Hermione for the better part of the past two weeks, but as she had trouble enough grasping the rules of regulation Quidditch, the two-a-side alternative was leaving her completely flustered. "We'll go through it one more time. Harry is playing Chaser and Seeker on your side, so he's in charge of offense. You're playing Keeper, so all you have to do is keep the Quaffle…" she held up the red leather ball… "out of the baskets." She turned and pointed to the pair of baskets suspended from trees on one side of the orchard which they were using in place of goal hoops and which Hermione was, in theory, defending. A corresponding set hung on the opposing side of the orchard; these were the ones that Ron was defending for he and Ginny.

Hermione nodded for the umpteenth time, as this was the umpteenth time the rules had been laid out for her. Ginny continued. "Right. Then, when Harry spots the Snitch, you take the Beater's bat…" she pointed to the wooden club gripped fiercely in Hermione's hand, "… and you use it to hit the Bludger away from Harry while he tries to catch it."

"Why would Harry try to catch the Bludger?"

"No," said Ginny, shaking her head slightly, "the Snitch."

"Well, what I don't see," said Hermione impatiently, "is how I'm supposed to be able to tell if Harry has seen the Snitch."

"You just have to watch what he does," explained Ginny, trying desperately not to laugh. "If he stops chasing the Quaffle and suddenly darts away from the goal posts, he's probably seen the Snitch. Unless," she added, with only the faintest bit of mischief gleaming in her eye, "he's dropped into the Wronski Feint that your boyfriend Viktor is so fond of."

"Don't say that!" Hermione hissed. Her eyes darted 'round the orchard, and Ginny chuckled.

"Don't worry," she said. "He's still in the trees with Harry."

Hermione turned from her with a sniff. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ginny. Honestly."

Ginny rolled her eyes. It was getting ridiculous with these two already. But she said nothing, and instead turned to see if the boys had emerged yet. As it turned out, Ron's head had just poked out from the trees, and he was flying jauntily towards them, a lumpy brown object in hand and Harry following close behind. "We've got the Bludger!" he shouted, holding up the brown lump.

Ginny grimaced slightly. She knew they couldn't use a real Bludger or Snitch on the chance that they would escape and fly over the nearby Muggle village. Truth was, a quality Golden Snitch was so expensive she doubted her parents could afford one even if they could risk using it. Still, she had a hard time referring to this crudely enchanted burlap sack stuffed with flour as a "Bludger", and the "Snitch" they were using was an enchanted acorn painted gold that Harry could generally catch within seconds of release. Ginny had outscored him three-to-one as a Chaser (the fact that she only had to score against Hermione while Harry was defended against by Ron helped her totals, admittedly), but she had only managed to grab the "Snitch" away from Harry three times over two weeks.

"We ready to go again?" asked Ron eagerly. He held the "Bludger" aloft, getting set to release it.

"Wait…" Ginny tried to hold back her giggling; she managed, but couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. She was only human, after all. "Hermione needs some brushing up on the rules." Both of the older boys rolled their eyes.

"Hermione…" began Harry, but Ron cut him off.

"Oi! How long have you been listening to us talk about Quidditch, and watching matches and stuff? And it's not as if we haven't been playing two-a-side for two weeks!" Ginny could not tell if he was genuinely annoyed or if he was just being… well, if he was just being how Ron and Hermione were to each other.

"Forgive me," Hermione started in, "for being the only one here that doesn't think we go to school so we can spend every waking hour discussing, playing, and debating a child's game."

Ginny was about to protest, but then caught Harry shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. She drifted over towards him slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself as Ron and Hermione built up a nice head of steam.

"Quidditch," began Ron, "is not a kid's game! It's the best game in the world! And so what if I think the best thing about Hogwarts is the Quidditch? Maybe it is!"

"Hogwarts is not about Quidditch, or points, or winning the House Cup!" Hermione really had some momentum going now, Ginny had to admit. "It is about getting ourselves prepared for…" she glanced at Harry, but quickly looked away. "For whatever it is that's out there! It is not about a game, and…" she looked at Ginny as she said, "… and it is not about secret passageways and three-headed dogs!" She said this with a note of triumph in her voice, as if proving a point.

"Hey, wait a second…" Harry started, as though it had taken him a moment to realize the conversation had taken this turn.

Ginny leaned over to him, her eyes still on the arguing Ron and Hermione, both of whom were once again focused entirely on each other. "She wasn't talking about you," she whispered to Harry. "She said that for me."

Harry looked clueless. "But the dog -- ?" he whispered back.

Ginny shook her head. "She's just getting back at me for something I said a few weeks ago. Tell you later." She turned her attention back to the fighting non-couple bobbing gently in mid-air.

"… a damn sight better than those Muggle games you used to play, I'll wager!" Ron was still going on defending the honor of Quidditch, and Ginny had to wonder at his newly chosen tactic of insulting childhood games that she was fairly certain Hermione didn't give two newts about.

"Language, Ron," said Hermione in the cool voice of one who feels sure they are winning the argument. "If you must know, some of those primitive little 'Muggle games' were quite charming, in their fashion. Wouldn't you agree, Harry?"

Harry started. Clearly he had not expected to be dragged back into the conversation. "Um… not really, no," he said. "I never much enjoyed any of them."

"Well, I did," said Hermione, undaunted by the defection of her only possible ally. "In fact… I think we should play one right now."

Ron snorted at this. Ginny knew how he felt. "Play a Muggle game?" Ron asked. "How? We don't know the rules. And we don't have any equipment."

"Harry and I can explain the rules, Ron," she replied. "And as for equipment…" she trailed off, eyeing the "Bludger" in Ron's hands, which was now steadily leaking flour onto the grass below. "I think we can manage something," she said dryly. Ron followed her gaze down to the tear in the bag, and quickly shoved his thumb in it, looking affronted.

Hermione turned her attention to Ginny. "Ginny," she said, in a take-charge voice only she could manage without coming across as completely overbearing. "Give me that red scoring ball."

"You mean the Quaffle?"

"Yes, that. Hand it to me."

Rather than float the few remaining meters between she and Hermione, Ginny simply tossed the red leather ball to her friend, lightly and underhand. Hermione made no motion to catch it; she simply turned her head and watched it sail past her, falling to the ground below. She looked back to Ginny. "Thank you," she said, and with a satisfied sniff, she turned and floated slowly to the ground with as much dignity as she could muster.

They watched her descend, and then Ron turned to Harry. "This is your fault," he said grumpily. Harry looked mystified.

"How, exactly, is this my fault?" he wondered at Ron. Ron did not respond, and instead muttered something under his breath that sounded like "crackpot Muggle games", and followed Hermione to the ground.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, shaking their heads. "Makes you wish," said Ginny, "they'd just get it over with and snog each other senseless already, doesn't it?" Harry's mouth dropped open, and Ginny turned and followed in her brother's path, grinning mischievously.

Moments later, Ron was the one with his mouth hanging open. He apparently could not believe what Hermione was explaining to him were the rules of an actual game played by actual children. "So you mean," he said, disbelief etched all over his face, "that we are going to run around in the grass…"

"Staying on your team's side of the line," said Hermione as she pointed to the row of rocks she had carefully stretched out from one side of the clearing to the other.

"And we are just going to throw the Quaffle as hard as we can at each other, trying to hit each other?"

"That's right," said a smiling Hermione.

Ron turned to Ginny. "Have you ever heard of anything more brutal in all of your life?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Ronald!" scolded Hermione. "Brutal! It's a children's game! You want to talk brutal… ask Harry how many times Quidditch has landed him in the Hospital Wing."

"Don't know if I can remember the exact number." Harry said thoughtfully.

"Too many Bludgers to the head, I'd reckon," offered Ginny, grinning at Harry. Harry grinned back. The little voice in her head shouted _Whooopeeee!_ She mentally punched the voice in the mouth.

"And this 'game'…" continued Ron, "is called… what was it called?"

"Dodgeball," Hermione said with a pleased smile.

"Dodgeball," repeated Ron. He shook his head as if this were the nuttiest thing he had ever heard. "This," he declared, "is the nuttiest thing I have ever heard."

"I don't know, Ron," said Ginny, putting on her 'very-serious' face. "Seems to me that it's the perfect name. Tells you all you need to know about the game, really."

"Hermione," said Harry, "you can't really play two-a-side dodgeball, can you?"

"Nor can you play two-a-side Quidditch, Harry," snapped back Hermione, "but that certainly hasn't stopped us from trying to do just that for the past two weeks, has it?" Harry looked unconvinced. "All right, we'll play by points," acquiesced Hermione. "1 point for every opposing team member you hit, 1 point for each thrown ball you catch. 10 points wins a round; best 3-out-of-5 rounds. Harry and I will be on separate teams, as we've played before. Harry and Ron against you and I, Ginny." She looked around. "Everyone clear, then?"

"Nope," said a stubborn Ron, grumpily shoving his hands into his pockets. "Still don't get it."

"Oh, honestly, Ron," huffed Ginny. "Just throw the Quaffle at them until you hit them."

Twenty minutes later, running around on the ground of all places, Ginny was forced to admit that "dodgeball" was actually fun. There was a simple, primitive joy in playing a game that not only allowed you to heave a large ball at your friends and loved ones, but also actually demanded that you do so in order to win. Hermione, as it turned out, was the best dodgeball player among them, although Ginny and Ron had spent most of their lives throwing objects of various sizes and weights at each other and so were quick studies. Harry's dodgeball "technique", if one could call it that, seemed to take the game as true to its name; he dodged the ball with such skill and reflex that in the course of twenty minutes Ginny and Hermione had only managed to hit him three times, and those were just glancing blows. Ginny merely found it to be curious, wondering why Harry didn't seem to be trying much to catch or throw the ball, but Hermione was finding it increasingly infuriating, equating Harry's success to dodge her throws with her own failure to hit him. And if there's one thing Hermione hated, thought Ginny, it's failing.

"Hold STILL, Harry!" Hermione cried after yet another near miss, where it had seemed certain she had Harry dead to rights but he somehow managed to drop to the grass and duck out of the way. Ron guffawed loudly.

"Why in the name of Merlin's saggy left…"

"RON!"

"… would he do that?" asked Ron, scooping up the Quaffle. "The whole POINT of the game is to 'dodge' the 'ball', isn't it? I mean, it's YOUR bloody stupid game, right?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits, and Ginny's widened in shock. She glanced at Harry, who was lifting himself up and whose face told her that he saw it too. Hermione, right at this moment, was not a witch one wanted to cross.

Ron, in his oblivious glee at Hermione's state, did not pick up on this. He just flung the Quaffle half-heartedly, still chuckling. Hermione caught it neatly with both hands.

"One point for me," she said quietly. Ron stopped laughing, his eyes going wide to match his sister's. "And here comes one more." Hermione reared back and hurled the ball as hard as she could at Ron.

Moments later, Ginny and Harry stood alone in the middle of the field, watching Hermione lead Ron frantically down towards the house, Ron holding onto her with one hand and the other clutching his nose, which was gushing blood.

"I'm so sorry, Ron! I'm so sorry!" Hermione could be heard saying over Ron's moans of agony. "I just didn't think! I didn't realize I was throwing it so hard!"

"Yu daid no ead shots!" yelled Ron.

"I know, I know, I'm so, so sorry!" They continued on this way until they disappeared into The Burrow. Harry turned to Ginny.

"I suppose that's game, then?" She nodded, smiling slightly. "Do you think," he continued, "Ron was really hurt as badly as he was putting on?"

Ginny snorted back a laugh. "Not a chance," she said. "But he'll milk it for all it's worth, just you wait and see."

Harry nodded. "Well," he said, "I suppose we ought to clean up. It's almost lunchtime, anyway." He picked up the Quaffle, rubbed a spot or two of blood off of it and onto the grass, and then they headed across the clearing to gather up the four broomsticks, abandoned under some trees in the switch from Quidditch to dodgeball.

"Interesting style of dodgeball play you have, Harry," said Ginny as they walked.

"What do you mean?"

"I think at some point you're supposed to try and throw or catch the ball, am I right? Or did I not get the rules Hermione explained about 23 times?" She feigned looking in her pockets. "I wrote them down; I know they're here somewhere… I wanted to take them to my room tonight and memorize them."

Harry laughed. "You mean Percy's room," he corrected her.

"Shut it, Potter."

"As for my dodgeball technique…" Slowly, his smile faded. Concerned, Ginny turned to him, but Harry made a great show of picking up the broomsticks one by one and would not look her in the eye.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't about to let him get off that easy. "What about your dodgeball technique?" she asked, a little more forcefully than she had intended.

Harry turned to her. "Let's say that, growing up, I played the game with different rules than Hermione."

Ginny inclined her head slightly. There were rule variations? Interesting. "How so?" she asked.

Harry looked away again, an ironic smile playing across his face, but he answered her. "When we played in primary school, my cousin Dudley and his gang would change the rules so that instead of two teams playing against each other, everyone would play against me. Or Dudley and his friends would beat them up." Ginny felt her eyes growing wide and her jaw dropping open. It was the most horrible thing she had ever heard. Harry still didn't look at her, but he continued.

"So over the years, I suppose my 'technique' became more about dodging and running than anything else." With that, Harry turned to walk back to The Burrow.

Ginny was mortified. How could she have been so stupid to pry like that? She watched him walk away. _Good work, love,_ chided the little voice in her head. _Now he probably won't speak to you for the whole rest of the summer._ Ginny thought about that for a brief, awful moment.

The blazes he wouldn't.

"Harry, wait!" Ginny ran after him. He was walking slowly, so he was only about halfway to the door of The Burrow by the time she caught up to him. "Harry, I am so sorry. How utterly stupid and pig-headed of me. I should have guessed."

Harry smiled a little bit, but kept walking.

"Seriously, Harry, I… I… " Ginny was struggling to keep pace with him and apologize at the same time. Fortunately, Harry stopped about twenty yards from the house and turned to her. She inwardly exhaled; he did not look angry.

"It's really okay, Gin," he said, quietly. "It's fine."

Ginny nodded. "Okay," she said. "If you promise."

"I promise."

They stood together in silence for a moment. Ginny could feel the weight of awkwardness descending upon her. She tried very hard to think of what she could say next to ease the tension, so she really surprised herself when the next words out of her mouth were:

"What was it like to grow up with them?"

Time froze for a moment. Harry's eyes grew wide. Ginny knew how he felt; she was just as shocked as he was that she had had the absolute nerve to ask him that. It was possibly the single worst thing she could have possibly said right at that moment.

_I love you._

Well, aside from that silly bit of fiction.

Having run out of stupid, awkward things to say, Ginny simply waited for Harry to respond, probably by spinning on his heel and stomping off, incensed by her audacity.

But he didn't. Instead, the look of surprise vanished from his face, replaced by one of contemplation. Ginny held her breath. "I'm trying to think," Harry began, "of how best to explain it…"

"You don't have to," Ginny replied meekly. Her voice had returned when Harry hadn't been infuriated by her brashness, but it was still wary of what he might say or do next.

"I'll put it like this," said Harry. "Do you know how you always complain about having no privacy and having too many brothers and no sisters?"

"I don't always…"

"And Ron always goes on about everybody ignoring him because he's not as funny as the twins or as smart as Percy or as daring or handsome as Bill or Charlie? And the twins complain that nobody 'gets' them, and everybody stifles their creativity? And Percy would always get so mad because everyone else was so childish and he couldn't have an intelligent conversation? And how you all complain because your mum is so overbearing and coddling and your dad is always in the shed with all that Muggle stuff and he's so weird?"

"Okay…" Ginny didn't know where he was going with this.

"And each of you always fight and argue and complain with and at each other? Not all the time, you know, but you do. And you all get frustrated because ultimately nobody ever wins anything and nothing ever gets settled and the stuff that was bothering you just keeps right on bothering you?"

"Right…"

"I listen to that, and I watch it… and I just think you lot are the luckiest people in the world."

Not what she was expecting.

"Because," Harry continued, "when you complain about stuff like that, I think about what it was like with the Dursleys, and how you lot don't even know what it's like to have things to complain about, REAL things. And I'm not blaming you or saying 'poor me' or anything like that," he added quickly. "I think how great it must have been for you, not having to worry about things like not ever getting birthday presents or having to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs…"

"What?!" Ginny could not believe that was true. That couldn't be true, could it?

"Yeah," Harry said, simply. "Wait, calm down."

Ginny's face had suddenly flamed as red as her hair. Without warning, she had become as angry as she could ever remember being. "Sleeping under the stairs? In a cupboard under the stairs?! Who could treat a child like that?"

"The Dursleys," said Harry solemnly. "That's who. Why are you taking your wand out?"

"I'll hex every one of them, I swear it!" Ginny's voice was rising, and she didn't care. To treat a child like Harry was describing… if she knew how to get to this Dursley house, she'd be halfway there already.

"Ginny, it's all right," Harry said. "Hogwarts is my home now. I only go back to the Dursely's because… because Dumbledore said I have to. I'm just trying to say…" Harry searched for the words. "At your worst, even when you guys are angry or fighting or jealous, I wish I had what you have. I wish I had the chance to grow up as part of a normal family," Ginny raised her eyebrows. "All right, a semi-normal family," corrected Harry with a smirk. "Even with all the fighting and not being able to stand each other. Believe me, all of that is a far cry better than what I had to go through." He paused. "Like becoming a walking target in dodgeball."

They stood for a moment in silence. Harry look down at the ground quite suddenly; he seemed to be realizing everything he had just said. "Anyway…" he muttered sheepishly. Nothing followed.

Ginny was speechless. She did not know what to do or say. So, as her mouth did before, her hand took over. She didn't even realize she was squeezing Harry's hand with the tips of her fingers until she had already been doing it for several seconds. "You know," she said tentatively, "you do have a family now, or at least, the next best thing." Harry looked at her. She pressed on. "I mean, you've heard mum talking about you to the Order. She thinks of you as another son. And I'm certain Ron feels as closely to you as he does to any of us, as if you were his brother." Harry said nothing. His expression was unreadable, his gaze unflinching. "As for the rest of us…" Ginny took a deep breath, and then smiled. "We think you're mostly sort-of all right."

The mood broke. Harry laughed and Ginny joined him. "Thanks for the compliment, 'sis'," chuckled Harry.

"Don't call me that," said Ginny quickly. Perhaps too quickly. Harry looked a bit stung. "I have enough brothers already," Ginny hastily explained. "The last thing I need is a seventh, especially one who can't even play a proper game of dodgeball."

Harry laughed again, and seemed about to retort when a deafening scream emanated from within The Burrow.

"'Ermione! What deed you do to zat poor boy? Oh, Ronald! Come 'ere and I weel take a look at your nose. I 'ave always said, zee British women are far too robust for zere own good!"

Harry and Ginny exchanged horrified glances. "Oh, no. Poor Ron," said Harry.

"Poor Hermione," Ginny added. Then she grinned. "Shall we go watch?"

Harry looked concerned. "I don't know," he said. "Ron's probably mortified that Fleur's talking to him as if he were six years old, and Hermione must be fuming. They probably don't want us around making it worse." Disappointed, Ginny was about to reluctantly agree, when a grin of his own crossed Harry's face. "I am a bit hungry, though," he said. "They can't say anything about us sitting and eating lunch while they're in the kitchen, can they?"

"They most certainly can not!" said Ginny, her grin reappearing as wide as ever. And with that, she grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him into The Burrow.


	5. Chapter 4: A Birthday Snitch

The next morning, Ginny was the last down to breakfast, again. She couldn't remember when, exactly, she had become such a late riser, but after a moment's thought realized it wasn't worth another moment's thought. At the kitchen table where they were finishing up breakfast, Ron and Hermione had seemingly decided, either independently or together, that dodgeball was a topic about which they would speak no more and were instead being bizarrely polite to each other.

"More pumpkin juice, Hermione?" asked Ron, offering the large pitcher across the table.

"Thank you, Ron," replied Hermione. "Are you quite finished with the 'Prophet'?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Ron hastily offered the paper, obviously unopened, to Hermione across the table.

"Only if you're finished."

"No, absolutely."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Hermione opened the paper, and Ron continued shoveling bacon into his mouth, both sporting subtle smiles. Ginny watched the entire exchange, dumbfounded, and looked at Harry. He glanced at her, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. This had, apparently, been going on all morning.

And so the meal continued, with Ron and Hermione being painfully pleasant to one another, and an incredulous Harry and Ginny gritting their teeth and trying their best not to laugh. This behavior may have continued the entire morning if Fleur hadn't entered the kitchen.

"Oh, Ronald, let me see your nose! Ah, yes, zee swelling 'as gone quite down! You can 'ardly tell where zee Quaffle was so rudely 'eaved into your face!"

With that, she swept up the stairs towards Bill's room, but the effect of her comment lingered. Hermione closed the 'Prophet' with a far louder 'SNAP!' than was entirely necessary. "Shall we go, then?" she said frostily. She got to her feet and headed to the door. Ron, Harry and Ginny followed suit, but before they could get away, Mrs. Weasley swept into the room.

"Not so fast, you four!" she said briskly. There were moments, thought Ginny, where her mother seemed as though she could be Professor McGonagall's long lost daughter. Usually those moments coincided with a list of tasks that they were going to be asked to do.

"You have spent quite enough time on your broomsticks playing that silly game," Mrs. Weasley lectured. "Ronald's bloodied nose is enough to show me you are in need of more productive ways to fill your time. Now, I won't hear it!" she cut off the protestations of Ron and Ginny before they could really begin. "Harry, Ron, Hermione… the garden needs de-gnoming. Again. And Ginevra…" she turned to Ginny and waved her hand airily at the breakfast table, laden with the remnants of their meal. "Dishes," she said with finality.

"Mum!" cried Ginny. This, she felt, was patently unfair. Without Quidditch to distract them, the conversation of the other three would surely turn towards Harry's night out with Dumbledore, and whatever-it-was the Headmaster wanted him to do. She had been hoping at the very least to eavesdrop on that conversation, but now…

"Not a word," her mother said warningly. Ginny clammed up. She knew that tone, and knew better than to defy it. It certainly wouldn't stop her from sulking about it, though. "Out with you three," Mrs. Weasley said, turning and bustling the others from the kitchen. "Get to it." Ron and Hermione left the kitchen in a hurry, eager to avoid any additional tasks being handed their way. Harry followed, but stopped and turned in the doorway.

"See you later, Ginny," he said with an apologetic shrug.

"Right. No worries," Ginny replied. Harry hurried after Ron and Hermione, and Ginny turned her sour expression towards her mother.

"Oh, don't give me that look, young lady," scolded her mum. "Dumbledore specifically mentioned I should give the three of them time alone to discuss…" Ginny's ears perked up, but her mother stopped, a puzzled expression on her face. "Well, I don't know what, actually, they're discussing," she admitted. Her expression than grew sour. "But I don't like the implications."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"Dumbledore wanting them to discuss something. If I know the man, and I'm afraid I do," she said, her scowl becoming even more pronounced, "It means he wants all three of them to do something incredibly dangerous and… and…"

"Stupid?" offered Ginny.

"Yes, that's it," agreed her mum.

Ginny sighed, and turned to the dishes. "Mum, it's not as if they weren't going to go and do something dangerous and stupid this year, anyway. They manage to do that every year at school, don't they?"

"Well, yes," acquiesced Mrs. Weasley. "But I don't very much like the idea of their teacher prodding them into it!" As Ginny now had her back to her mother, she couldn't see her turn and glare in her direction; rather, she could feel it. "And don't you get any ideas about running around doing whatever-it-is with them!" Ginny scoffed at this.

"Like they ever include me in anything, anyway," she harrumphed. "Honestly."

Ginny dutifully scrubbed away at the dishes for another twenty minutes or so. The feeling that she was again being entirely left out of everything interesting had descended over her, and each moment spent alone in the kitchen battling dried egg yolks only put her in a further funk and mood.

The truth was that she was actually fairly popular at school; to be entirely honest, she was probably more popular than Ron, Harry, or Hermione. Oh, they were more FAMOUS, surely; it would be difficult to trump "The-Boy-Who-Lived" in notoriety no matter HOW many friends one made. But she was more popular, she was fairly certain, at least as far as such things were judged socially. She had many friends, not only in Gryffindor House, but across Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as well. She supposed that spending the majority of the school year fighting dark magic likely put a crimp in the social calendar of the other three, but facts were facts, and she, Ginny, was popular.

Not that she really cared. The people SHE liked the best, Neville and Luna, her brother and his two best friends, were NOT cool, were NOT popular… and she didn't care. She had long ago learned to frown upon people who judged others based on rumors and whispers spread through the hallway. She assumed this was an after-effect of the events of her first year, when she spent much of the time not speaking to anyone and writing in a diary that had turned out to be possessed by Voldemort. She had endured stares and whispers throughout her second year as well, and had not developed the thick skin she now wore until some time into her third year… about the same time she had realized just how silly she was being with her schoolgirl crush on Harry. It was Hermione's advice to forget about Harry and just be herself that had made the difference (the girl really was remarkably intelligent in so many ways). Not only had Ginny been able to resolutely swear to herself that she would not be a total nincompoop in Harry's presence, but she also decided that she had spent enough time at Hogwarts worrying that people were talking about her and her "adventures" in the Chamber of Secrets. After all, if Harry could go through all he'd been through and still be himself, than she could surely manage it as well. And so she had.

And while she was certainly popular, and people knew her and liked her, there was something missing. Because her first year had been spent under the sway of Tom Riddle's diary, and she had taken almost another whole year and a half to recover as much as she had from that experience, she had not formed any of the fast friendships that usually seemed to develop among the first and second year students of Hogwarts. By the time she had come out of her shell, most of the people in her year had already found their 'best friends'. So as 'popular' as she was, she knew that among her circle of acquaintances, she did not have anyone she was as close with as Ron was with Harry and Hermione. She had accepted this, and on most days it did not bother her.

Today, she realized, as she did the dishes and stewed over all of the conspiracy-sharing that was going on without her over the de-gnoming of the garden, was not one of those days, and the quality of her dish-doing was the worse for wear because of it. As she put the last violent finishing touches on a frying pan, neglecting to dig all of the bacon grease out of its every nook and cranny, the head of the person she wanted to see least poked itself into kitchen from the living room.

"Gin-ny!" said Fleur, in a sing-song voice and wearing a grin like the kneazle that just caught the canary.

"Wha-at?" sang back Ginny in the most mockingly sarcastic manner she could muster. She had turned back to her work, preparing to give that frying pan another go, when Fleur's reply froze her in place.

"There eez a boy in zee fireplace to see you!"

"What?!" Ginny dropped the frying pan with a clatter and spun back around to face Fleur, but the obnoxious French tart had already disappeared up the steps, humming an equally obnoxious French tune.

It took a moment for Ginny's brain to register what had been said to her. A boy in the fireplace? Who -- ? Then it hit her. She had felt so guilty about not owling Dean at all over the first few weeks of the summer break that she had managed to convince her father to ask at the Ministry if a time could be set when she could speak to Dean over the Floo Network. Given the current security surrounding The Burrow because of Harry's presence, it had not been easy, but apparently being Daddy's little girl still paid off in some ways, as Mr. Weasley had managed to convince the powers-that-be to give them one brief five minute window in which to converse.

A window that she was now two minutes late for.

Quickly wiping her hands on her jeans, she hurried into the living room to, sure enough, see Dean's worried head sitting in her family fireplace.

"Ginny!" he called out. "Thank goodness you're all right!"

Ginny's brow furrowed. This was not the first thing she expected Dean to say. "All right?" she repeated. "Of course I'm all right. Why would I not be all right?"

"You were supposed to Floo call me two minutes ago," Dean explained. "When you missed the connection, I got nervous that something had happened… you know, with Harry there and all." Ginny had to concede that this was a fair assumption. Dean continued. "So I decided to call you instead and make sure everything was fine."

Fleetingly, Ginny wished that her first reaction to this piece of information had been pleasure that Dean had been concerned for her well-being. Instead, she thought it was rather foolish of him to blindly shove his unarmed head into a location where he thought there might be danger. However, instead of sharing that opinion with him, her guilt over almost missing their Floo call prompted her to say: "Oh! It's so cute that you were worried about me!"

Sometimes being a girlfriend made her want to retch.

But Dean seemed pleased. "Have to make sure nothing happens to my girl, don't I?" he said proudly. Ginny just smiled and nodded. An awkward silence descended. Having only another two minutes and change to talk seemed to make it impossible for either of them to figure out what to say.

"So," said Dean haltingly. "How's your summer going?"

"Oh, good," Ginny said. "Doing some cleaning, playing Quidditch, you know."

"Sounds great!"

Silence.

"How's yours?" asked Ginny.

"About the same. Playing football, cleaning. Mum's always got chores, and she's a Muggle, you know, so I can't use magic to do them."

"You couldn't anyway," Ginny reminded him. "You're not of age yet."

"Oh, right," said Dean. "I know. But still… the idea of it and all that."

"Right."

More silence.

"Football," said Ginny. "That's that Muggle game, where the players kick the ball across the pitch, isn't it?"

"That's right," said Dean, grinning.

Ginny thought of the simplicity she had so admired in the name "dodgeball", the other Muggle game she had recently experienced. "Why don't they just call it kickball?" she asked.

"That's another game entirely."

"Oh."

Even more silence.

"It's Harry's birthday on Wednesday." Ginny blinked. Why in the bloody hell had she shared that piece of information? Who cares about Harry's birthday?

_You do_, offered the little voice in the back of her head.

"Having a party?"

Ginny blinked again. "What?"

"For Harry's birthday. Having a party?" Dean asked pleasantly, apparently not noticing that Ginny's brain had momentarily gone out to lunch.

"Just a small one," replied Ginny. "I think. Mum would have a party for anyone living under her roof, even if it were, I don't know, Voldemort."

Dean visibly shivered at the sound of the name. "Ginny! Don't say the name!"

"Right, sorry," she said, but internally she was rolling her eyes. "Anyway, I'd invite you to the party, really I would, but I don't think I'll be allowed, what with all the security measures around the house." She realized that she was being completely sincere; she would have liked to invite Dean to the party. They had only started dating at the very end of term, and they had never really gotten a fair shake at making a go of things. Plenty of snogging had been involved, yes, but not a great deal of getting to know each other. A party full of family might have been just the thing.

"No, it's all right," said Dean, although he said it with disappointment. "I understand. The security is for Harry's safety. I guess he's very important."

"He is," agreed Ginny.

_He is_, agreed the voice.

"Who is?" asked Ron. Startled, Ginny spun around to see Ron and Harry entering the living room carrying broomsticks. Ron stopped in his tracks when he saw Dean's head poking out of the fireplace. "Hello, Dean," he said, his voice becoming icy.

"Er… hi, Ron," said Dean awkwardly. Ginny hardly blamed him.

"Hello, Dean, good to see you!" Harry jumped in, giving Ginny a sympathetic glance. Ginny returned it with one of gratitude.

"Hey, Harry old chap, happy early birthday!" said Dean, seemingly relieved to turn his attention away from the glaring older brother Ron had become.

"Oh… er, thanks, Dean," Harry replied.

"Shame I can't make it to the party."

"Security measures," said Harry apologetically. "I promised Dumbledore I wouldn't break them this time."

Dean chuckled. "That'd be a first, eh? No, don't worry. Ginny explained everything. Say," he continued, "me mum and I are going to Diagon Alley on Saturday. Maybe we can meet you lot there?"

"What, you've gotten your school letter?" Ginny asked.

"Sure, haven't you?"

"Probably being searched," mused Harry. "Dumbledore said all of the mail being sent here was."

"Even mail sent from Hogwarts?" Ginny countered. Harry just shrugged.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get them in a day or so. If so, maybe I'll see you Saturday. Say, how much more time…" And with those last few words, Dean's head was unceremoniously sucked back out of the Floo.

Silence descended on the three teenagers left in the living room. Ron glared at Ginny, and Ginny fixed him with a glare right back. Apparently sensing a sibling brawl about to erupt, Harry tentatively tried to defuse the situation. "So… good to see Dean, no?"

Ron didn't move his glare from his sister's face. Ginny met Ron's gaze evenly, daring him to make the first move. He seemed to be fighting an internal battle over what to say, and finally settle on grunting, "Are you playing Quidditch with us or aren't you?" and stomping out of the room.

Harry turned sheepishly to Ginny. "Sorry about that."

"That ignorant prat," she fumed. "Maybe if he got himself a girlfriend, he'd leave those of us with active social lives alone!"

"I don't think…" started Harry.

But there was no slowing her down now. "I mean, honestly, you'd think I'd have commited some kind of crime! So, what, I've had two boyfriends? Well, I'm almost fifteen! I'll be of age in two years! I think two boyfriends is fairly normal!"

"Sure…" said Harry weakly.

Ginny was about to rant on when something in her brain clicked: she realized just what she was talking about and just whom she was talking to about it. Suddenly, it took a great deal of effort for her to fight down the blushing. When she was sure she had it under control, she turned to Harry.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"No, it's all right," said Harry. He then added, "I think it's perfectly normal."

"It is!" said Ginny. "I mean… you dated Cho, right?"

Harry half smiled. "If you want to call it that, sure."

"And Hermione," Ginny continued, "dated Viktor."

Harry threw a nervous glance to the kitchen doors. "Maybe you shouldn't talk about that so loudly," he said nervously. "Ron might come back." But Ginny suddenly realized that the last thing she wanted to talk about was Ron and his stupidly obvious infatuation with Hermione. If she never spoke of her brother again…

"So, how are things with you and Dean?" Ginny looked at Harry in surprise. She hadn't expected him, of all people, to ask this. "Going well?"

"I suppose," she said cautiously, but suddenly it seemed as though talking to Harry about her boyfriend was not as awkward as she had built it up to be. "It's not as though we've gotten to spend much time together," she added, a little more bravely.

"Well… you'll be back at school soon," Harry offered. "I suppose… well, I suppose that should help. Right?"

Ginny smiled. "I suppose it should, yes." It was amazing to her that Harry could battle Dark Wizards seemingly all day long but still seemed so clueless when it came to other, more normal things.

Then she remembered what he had told her about his life with the Dursleys, and how little normalcy it had contained. The smile faded from her lips. "What about you and Cho?" she asked. "That's…"

"That never was," said Harry. "Honestly, it's… it's not even history, because it barely happened."

"Sorry."

Harry just shrugged.

Ginny smiled again. "Don't worry, though. Things are bound to get better soon."

Harry smiled back, and offered his hand. "Have we met? I'm Harry Potter. Things don't go well for me."

Ginny laughed, and shook his hand.

_YOWZA!_

Stupid voice. "Pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter," she said. "I'm Ginny Weasley, and I'm here to tell you that you're bound to have at least one day this week where things go well."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Ginny shrugged. "It's your birthday on Wednesday, and you're in the Weasley home, where birthdays are recognized as national holidays. Now," she added, snatching the broom from a laughing Harry, "let's go play Quidditch."

* * *

Harry's birthday tea, however, did not go quite as seamlessly as planned, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin. It quickly turned into a litany of who had recently turned up missing or dead, as so many gatherings of Wizarding folk seemed to these days. Her father had grimly assured her that this, too, was reminiscent of how things had been back during the first war. While she found it hard to care that the decidedly creepy former Death Eater and (now) former Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute, Igor Karkaroff, had been found dead, the disappearance of Mr. Ollivander and Florean Fortescue alarmed her, as it did many others.

In the evening, after the few non-Weasley guests had departed (well before it got too dark), Ginny poked her head out of Percy's bedroom. The one good thing about Phlegm choking up her room was that staying in Percy's greatly reduced the chance somebody would see her now. Quietly and carefully closing the door behind her, and carrying a lumpy package wrapped hastily in brown paper, she quickly covered the several feet separating Percy's door and the twin's. Fixing her hair without realizing it, she knocked as gently as she could. "Come in," carried Harry's voice from inside. Ginny opened the door and poked in her head.

"It's me." She hovered a moment, a little uncertain if she should enter, but then stepped fully in the room and shut the door behind her.

"Hey," said Harry distractedly. He lay on Fred's bed, and was doing the most curious thing. He had a Golden Snitch clenched in his right hand, and was releasing it, letting it fly almost out of reach, before quickly snatching it back to him. Ginny watched him do this five or six times. Harry did not look at her.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked. "Is that some sort of Seeker training exercise or something?"

"No," said Harry. "It's just… something I saw someone do once." He looked decidedly cross, thought Ginny. More like he had looked through much of the previous year, not the more cheerful version of Harry that had come to The Burrow just a few weeks prior.

"Where'd you get the Snitch?" Ginny asked. Harry snatched it out of the air a little bit harder than was absolutely necessary and turned it over in his hands. "Remus," he said shortly.

"Professor Lupin?"

"He found it among Sirius' things. Said it used to be my dad's. Thought I might like to have it." Ginny would have thought so too, although the look on Harry's face at the moment indicated otherwise. Ginny felt her jaw set. Harry had seemed in such better spirits so far this summer. If he thought he was going to make them suffer another whole year with him being a flat-out miserable sod again…

But even as she thought this, Harry sighed. His face softened and the irritated look he had carried moments before was replaced with one of distinct sadness. "Ginny," he said, turning to her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Harry," Ginny said, sitting down on George's bed. "What's up?"

Harry studied the now stilled Snitch in his hands for a moment, than looked up at Ginny. "Have you ever known…" He stopped. "Wait, let me say that differently. Has somebody you loved ever turned out to be a… well, just a giant, humongous prat?"

Ginny smirked. "Have you met Ron?"

Harry smiled for a moment as well, but it quickly faded. "No, I'm serious."

"All right," said Ginny, her smile fading as well. "Have you met Percy, then?"

Harry just looked at her for a moment. "Right," he finally said. "So… what do you do?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well… we don't really know WHAT to do about Percy, honestly. We just hope he comes to his senses, I suppose, and sees how much he's hurting mum and dad. I mean, we're all affected by it. But it's them he really has to settle things with, you know?"

Harry nodded at her, lost in though. Then he asked, "Do you still love him?"

Ginny was taken aback. "Percy?" Harry nodded. "Of course I do! He's my brother, Harry! I'd like to kick him right in the head at the moment, but I still love him. We all do, I reckon. Even mum and dad. ESPECIALLY mum and dad," she amended. "Mum was always so proud of him."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know how you can forgive him. I don't know how I can…" Harry stopped, lost in thought again. Ginny wasn't sure who he was thinking of, but she was fairly sure it wasn't Percy. It couldn't be the Muggles; Harry hated them, and based on what she had just recently learned about them she could think of far worse things to call that lot than "prat". So who… ?

"Harry," she began. "I don't know who it is you're talking about… " He looked at her, a protest seemingly on his lips, but she cut him off. "And I don't need to know. It's all right. But… " She thought for a second. "Here's the thing. We're all of us prats, sometimes. Everyone. No matter how good a person somebody is, at some point they're going to do something that makes them seem a right foul git, you know? A complete arse." Harry smiled. "It's true!" continued Ginny. "Why, even I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, the most well-mannered and even-tempered lass in all the land, have been known to lose my cool and spout off at incredibly inopportune moments… from time to time." At this, Harry outright laughed.

"Right. You're a delicate flower, you," he said, chuckling.

"The point is, Harry," Ginny continued, "Everyone does stupid things. It doesn't make them bad people. Just because somebody acts like a prat once or twice or now and again, it doesn't mean they ARE a prat. It's when somebody ALWAYS acts the role, that's when they need a good hexing."

Harry smiled at her. "Or a kick in the head?" he asked.

Ginny smiled back. "Something like that." Her smile turned to a slightly wicked grin, "After all, Harry, look at yourself."

Harry looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Ginny shrugged innocently. "Well, you spent large portions of last year acting like the biggest prat to ever ride a broom."

"Hey!" said Harry, defensively. Folding her arms and narrowing her eyes, Ginny leveled a cool stare at him.

"Deny it," she challenged. They stared at each other for a moment, jaws set in a remarkably similar fashion, locked in a miniature battle of wills, but before it had a chance to get going, Harry grinned sheepishly, his shoulders slumping a little in defeat.

"Okay, fair point."

"I should say so," Ginny said, smugly. "And even though we all had to suffer through our year with 'The-Boy-Who-Had-Mood-Swings', we all knew that in actuality you're…"

_Amazing, intelligent, brave, caring, loyal, seriously brilliant, seriously handsome, all-together scrumptious…_

"… mostly sort-of all right?" Harry asked with a grin, repeating the phrase she had teased him with days earlier, and popping her out of the silent reverie of adjectives the little voice inside her head had suddenly bombarded her with.

"Yes… yes, that's right," she said, sounding a bit like Luna as she tried to clear her senses. What in the name of Merlin had just happened?

Harry was looking at her curiously. "You all right, Gin?"

With a shake of her head, she snapped herself back to reality. "Yes. Yes, sorry," she said. "My mind just wandered off there for a moment."

"Okay…" said Harry, still looking curiously at her. She rolled her eyes.

"It was nothing," she insisted. "I'm fine."

He regarded her for a moment. "You promise?" he said.

"I promise," she replied. "And besides, I thought I was the one helping you." Her brow knitted in concern. "I mean, I hope I've helped. It's a little difficult, not knowing exactly what we're talking about."

Harry looked at the Snitch in his hand again, this time with a smile. "You know what, Gin? It did, I think." He looked at her gratefully. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," she said, suddenly just a touch breathless, as he had unleashed the brilliant green of his eyes on her quite without warning. They sat there for a moment, Harry smiling, Ginny staring, the silence between them hanging in the air just as bricks don't. When words failed to emanate from either of their mouths for several moments, she shoved the lumpy brown package she had carried into the room towards him. "Here."

Harry took the package. "What's this?" he asked.

"A birthday present," Ginny replied. Harry looked up at her, aghast.

"Ginny, you didn't have to…"

"Oh, stop." She waved him off. "Trust me, it's not much. Just open it."

He did, still looking embarrassed. This was quickly replaced by a look of confusion, as he seemed to be trying to figure out just what she had gotten him.

"It's a scarf," she offered.

"Oh!" said Harry.

"Right. I knitted it." He looked up at her. She rolled her eyes. "Mum insists that I learn to do… I don't know, mum-like things. It bothers her that I'd rather be playing Quidditch than knitting or cooking."

Harry nodded, but didn't look at her. He was busy pulling his red and gold striped scarf from out of the package. It didn't seem to want to stop. It just kept going and going and going and going…

"Ummm…" Harry had pulled about five feet of scarf out of the package now. Ginny blushed slightly. "It's… a bit on the long side," he observed.

"Well, I had some trouble with the knitting charm," admitted Ginny. "I couldn't quite get the needles to stop."

"I see," said Harry, eight feet of scarf now out of the package.

"I figured it would be great for Quidditch, as the weather up at the school pitch seems so awful more often than not."

"Awful, right," said Harry, now up to eleven feet of scarf.

"I actually started making you a sweater," said Ginny, her voice now getting just a bit louder than was absolutely necessary as the length of scarf kept unfurling from out of the package. "But that was… a disaster."

Harry looked at her, looked at the scarf, and looked at her again. "Just how disastrous could it have been?"

Ginny grimaced. "Let's just say the ghoul in the attic now has a lovely hand-knit kilt in Gryffindor red and gold."

"Ah," said Harry. "A kilt wouldn't go over too well on a broomstick, I reckon." Ginny grinned. "No," continued Harry. "I think we'll stick with the scarf."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You don't have to pretend you like it. It's awful. I'm rubbish at knitting."

"No! No!" insisted Harry, who now had the full fifteen-foot long scarf sitting on his lap. "It's brilliant, thank you."

"You don't mean…"

"I do!" swore Harry. "In fact, what I like best about it is, I could tie one end to the goal hoops on the Gryffindor side of the pitch, and still make it all the way to the other side of the pitch without tearing it." He was clearly enjoying this.

"Forget it," steamed Ginny. "If you don't like it..." She grabbed for it, but he pulled it away.

"No," he said, seriously. "No. I love it. It's a perfectly good scarf, and even if it wasn't, it's the thought that counts."

Ginny snorted. "That's a load of…"

"No, it's not," said Harry firmly. "I'm not one who got a lot of birthday presents growing up, Ginny." She stopped grabbing for the scarf and looked at him. Of course he hadn't. She had forgotten, and he had just told her about the Dursleys days prior. She felt the familiar Weasley blush crawling up her cheeks. As usual, Harry either didn't notice or pretended not to. "So every present I get from people I care about means something." He held up the scarf again, studying it. "In fact, I think all of the people I care about could wear this at once, which makes it extra special."

She laughed at this, and he grinned. "So thank you, Ginny."

"You're welcome, Harry," she replied. "I'm glad I could give you a gift everyone can enjoy together." She scratched her head. "Er… just do me a favor and don't mention this to anyone, all right? I don't want my stupid brothers hearing I got you a present."

"Why not?"

"Well…" said Ginny. She took a deep breath. She suddenly realized how free and easy she and Harry had been with each other for almost a full year, and even more so this summer. Bringing up the past, acknowledging her old inability to speak around him… it occurred to her that mentioning it might cause it to happen again.

She wasn't ready to make light of that part of their past with him. Not yet.

"Just don't," she improvised. "I'll never hear the end of it over this fifteen foot monstrosity."

She held her breath. She was fairly certain Harry would realize that this wasn't the real reason she didn't want him to bring it up around others, that she was really worried that if her brothers heard she had given Harry a birthday present they'd see a target on her forehead, just as they had when she had made Harry that bloody stupid Valentine's card…

But Harry just smiled. "All right, Gin," he said. "Mum's the word." As usual, he pretended not to notice any awkwardness on her part, either now or in the past… or perhaps he actually, truly didn't notice it. Either way, Ginny didn't know whether to be relieved by his compassion or annoyed by his obliviousness.

Suddenly, the door opened with a BANG! and Ron burst right in. "Oi! What are you lot doing in here?"

Caught off-guard, sitting alone with Harry, discussing how she wanted to avoid exactly what was now happening, Ginny's usually lightning-fast false-response reaction time seemed to sputter out. "Um… I was just… that is, we were…"

"Ginny was telling me about a letter that Hermione got the other day," said Harry. Ginny whirled at him, eyes wide.

"A letter?" said Ron suspiciously. "From who?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "What did you say the envelope was initialed, Ginny?"

Harry had bought Ginny enough time to recover. "Oh, let me think… yes, I think it was V.K., though I can't be sure." She turned to the now ashen-faced Ron, and asked sweetly, "You don't know anyone with those initials, do you, Ronald?"

Ron distractedly shook his head, and without another glance at either of them, stumbled out of the room. Grinning, Ginny turned to Harry. "I'm impressed!"

Harry smiled. "You're not the only one who's ever had to think fast, you know."

Smiling, Ginny nodded. With Harry's eyes on her, a silence laden with meaning threatened to descend on them again. Instead of allowing that to happen, she said, "I'd better get to bed."

"Right," said Harry. "Thanks again for the scarf."

Ginny quietly padded back to Percy's room, thinking that had gone exceptionally well.

_It certainly did._

She didn't even mind the voice this time.

Of course, she had no intention of encouraging it, either…


	6. Chapter 5: A Date in Diagon Alley

"I can't get over it. These are absolutely amazing!"

It was the Saturday following Harry's birthday, and Ginny and Hermione were in Fred and George's new shop, "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes", the lively new centerpiece of a Diagon Alley that seemed to otherwise be living in constant fear of Death Eater attacks. The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione had come to Diagon Alley to stock up on supplies for the coming term, and the twin's new store was the last stop of the day.

The two teenage girls were poring over something called "Patented Daydream Charms", which were what was currently amazing Hermione. The claim being made by the makers of the charm (who just happened to be Ginny's surprisingly industrious elder twin brothers) was that each charm would provide a realistic 30-minute daydream for the user, which seemed just the thing to make one of Professor Binn's History of Magic lectures almost bearable.

But while Ginny was formulating ideas for their usage, Hermione seemed to be simply admiring the craftsmanship. "Remarkable, remarkable magic," she kept muttering to herself. "Simply astounding." She rifled through the display, reading off the names of each charm. "Pirate Daydream, Quidditch Star Daydream, Warlock Daydream, Muggle Daydream…" Hermione chuckled and read the product description aloud. "'Spend 30 Minutes as a Muggle.' I'm tempted to buy this. Seeing as how I don't think either Fred or George has ever met a Muggle, it would be interesting to see just how accurate this is."

"They have, " corrected Ginny. "Harry's family. Blew up their chimney. Besides", she continued, "I have learned, Hermione, to never doubt Fred and George when it comes to the unconventional." Ginny pulled two more charms from the display. "Look at these: the Dragon Handler daydream and the Curse Breaker daydream."

"Wait, isn't that…?"

"Charlie and Bill," said Ginny. Apparently, Fred and George had 'borrowed' the employment of the two eldest Weasley brothers for their Daydream Charms. "Hysterical. I wonder if they did all of us. Do you think they have one for Ron? 'Spend 30 minutes as a tall, gangly git who can't seem to do anything right!'" Hermione laughed. "No, who would want it?" Ginny went on. She glanced at Hermione, and added playfully, "Well, I can think of one person who may be interested in a Ronald Weasley daydream."

It seemed to take Hermione a moment to register Ginny's comment, but when she did, the smile disappeared from her face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ginny," Hermione said, giving her usual reply to such accusations. "Honestly."

Ginny sighed. She was getting tired of this. "Oh, come on, Hermione," she implored. "I tell you… things."

"I don't want to talk about it," said Hermione, now going through the Daydream Charms a little bit faster than was necessary.

"Talk about what?" challenged Ginny. "I thought you didn't know what I was talking about?"

"I don't!" Hermione insisted. "It's rubbish! I don't… I just…" she collected herself, and turned to Ginny. "Even if there were anything to talk about, which there is not, this is hardly the time or the place."

"All right, all right," acquiesced Ginny.

"Besides," continued Hermione, "it's all so utterly absurd and maddening. I just don't…"

She stopped, staring off into the distance. Ginny didn't press her; this was the closest to a confession of absolute love and adulation for her brother that Hermione had ever expressed. She decided to chalk this one up as a victory.

"So," said Ginny, changing the subject, "Dean may be meeting us."

"Oh?" Hermione's voice was back to normal. "You told him we'd be here?"

"Owled him late last night," Ginny admitted. "Forgot to do it sooner. Don't even know if he got it in time. I'm a terrible girlfriend."

"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "Do you think your brothers will go easy on him?"

"They'd better," Ginny retorted, a touch of menace ringing in her voice. "But I doubt it."

Hermione smiled. "So do I," she replied. She glanced around for a moment, and then leaned in almost imperceptibly closer to Ginny. "And what about Harry?" she asked.

Ginny had continued to thumb through the Daydream Charms. At this comment, she looked up at Hermione, a puzzled look on her face. "What about Harry?" she asked.

"Are you, you know…" Hermione began, hesitantly. "Are you all right with him and you and… and everything?"

Ginny smiled. Although everyone seemed to know about her one-time crush on Harry (except, perhaps, Harry himself), Hermione was the one person she had actually told about it, back in her third year. It was Hermione's advice that had enabled Ginny to move on from her girlish infatuation, and she was glad she had confided in the older girl. Still, she somehow got the sense that things in that department had not unfolded precisely as Hermione had had in mind.

"Of course I'm all right," Ginny said. "Harry and I were talking about Dean just the other day. He tried to give me relationship advice, actually." She smiled. "It was very cute."

"Was it now?" said Hermione, and Ginny did not like the tone of voice with which she said it.

"It was, and I don't mean it like that!" Ginny said.

Hermione nodded. "All right," she said.

"I don't!"

"All right."

"I mean it!"

"Ginny, I said I believe you!"

"Look," said Ginny, growing hot, "if we're not going to talk about your 'thing', then you can't talk about my 'thing', and why should we? Because my 'thing' isn't even a 'thing' anymore!"

"I never said it was…"

But Ginny wasn't done. "Hermione, I know what you told me, that if I was myself and started dating other boys, maybe Harry would notice me. But that's not how it happened, and it's not even how I want it to happen, anymore!"

Hermione looked at her, and for a moment, Ginny thought she almost seemed disappointed. "Are you sure?"

_Are you?_ echoed the little voice in her head. She mentally rolled her eyes at both it and at Hermione.

"Yes," said Ginny firmly. "I'm sure. Quite sure. Completely sure."

Hermione smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I just… if you're happy, Ginny, I'm happy for you."

"I am," Ginny said. "I mean, I think I am. We've just started dating, Dean and I. So it's hard to judge. But I like him."

"Dean is very nice," agreed Hermione.

"He is. And not bad-looking at all," added Ginny.

Hermione laughed.

"Well," she began, "I'll deny it if you tell anyone, but you have a…"

"Have you girls found our special WonderWitch products yet?" came a voice from behind them. Ginny and Hermione turned quickly from the Daydream Charms to find Fred sweeping grandly towards them, his magenta robes dulled only by his broad grin, Harry trailing behind him. "Follow me, ladies…" He swept past them, headed towards the window, where a large group of giggling girls were, well, excitedly giggling.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged a wary look, and cautiously stepped forward, careful not to get too close to the mob of feminine giddiness swamping the WonderWitch display lest they be taken to be part of it. Fred seemed not to notice their reluctance. "There you go," he said proudly. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

Ginny found herself, to put it mildly, skeptical. "Do they work?"

"Certainly they work," huffed Fred, with just the appropriate combination of wounded pride and bemusement in his voice. "For up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question --"

" -- and the attractiveness of the girl," said a stern voice. Ginny glanced up to see George standing at her side. None of the bemusement in Fred's voice was evident in his. She glanced at Hermione, who offered her a shrug. "But we're not selling them to our sister, not when she's already got about five boys on the go from what we've… "

"Whatever you've heard from Ron is a big fat lie," Ginny replied calmly. She was already falling into line with the one trick she had developed over the years in order to successfully deal with the twins: never let them see you sweat. She picked up a small pink pot from a nearby shelf with practiced idleness. "What's this?"

"Guaranteed Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher," replied Fred, ever the salesman. "Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads…" (here Ginny was sure she caught George throwing his brother a stern glance) "… but don't change the subject," Fred continued, changing course himself. "Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?"

"Yes, I am," said Ginny, the picture of nonchalance. "And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five." At that moment, something on a nearby shelf did actually catch her attention. Just to her left stood a large golden cage, filled with scrambling and squeaking little pink and purple balls of fluff. Pointing to the cage, she asked, "What are those?"

"Pygmy Puffs. Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough. So what about Michael Corner?"

"I dumped him, he was a bad loser." Ginny was only half listening now; George's act was beginning to bore her. She stuck her finger through the bars of the cage and stroked the nearest Puff, which tittered appreciatively. "They're really cute!"

"They're fairly cuddly, yes," replied Fred. "But you're moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?"

Ginny sighed, and then sharply turned with a mum-like glare to face her suddenly stunned brothers. "It's none of your business. And I'll thank _you_…" she snapped at an approaching Ron, "not to tell tales about me to these two!"

She turned back to the cage with an air of decided finality. She was annoyed, yes, both at the twins for their questioning and at Ron for having a big mouth, but it's not as if these weren't the types of reactions she expected when her brothers were confronted with the fact that their little sister had begun dating. In fact, if she were being completely honest with herself, she somewhat liked their overprotective attitudes.

Not that she'd ever admit that to them…

She played with the Pygmy Puffs idly as she listened to Fred and George argue with Ron, and then to her mother chastise Ron for making a rude hand gesture. "Mum," she said suddenly, facing her mother. "Can I have a Pygmy Puff?"

Mrs. Weasley looked taken aback for a moment, but only just. "A what?" she asked warily.

There was a sinking feeling in Ginny's stomach. She knew that tone, and it usually presaged a gentle rebuttal of any request for something that took on the form of an unnecessary "luxury". Still, she pressed on. "Look, they're so sweet."

Her mum simply frowned. Ginny knew that frown. Her future ownership of a pygmy puff was looking less and less likely. "Mum…" she began, already planning her defense.

"I'm sorry, Ginevra," said Mrs. Weasley. Ginny began to open her mouth in protest, but stopped with a glance at her mother. She did not look angry; instead, she looked sad and, at that moment, rather older than she had in quite some time. "It's just that money is very tight at the moment, you know." Ginny nodded. She couldn't remember a moment in her life when money hadn't been tight… but she didn't say that. "Perhaps if you ask Fred and George…"

"No," said Ginny firmly, cutting her off. "Fred and George are running a business, not a charity. I'll survive."

Her mother nodded and smiled. She peered back into the cage and poked at one of the fuzzballs, which twittered appreciatively in response. "They are precious though, aren't they?" she conceded before walking away with an apologetic smile.

Ginny's return smile faded as soon as her mother faded from view. She turned to Hermione to complain… only to find Hermione had disappeared from view as well. For that matter, she realized, so had Ron and Harry. Her grey mood became darker as she realized that, once again, the three of them had run off for… well, for something… and had left her behind. "Just once," Ginny mumbled to herself, poking at the Pygmy Puffs a little harder than she intended. "Just once I'd love to be involved. 'Ginny, we're going to curse Malfoy, care for a laugh?' 'Ginny, we're going to nip on down to the kitchen to start a house-elf revolution. Bring the badges.' 'Ginny, got to save the world again, why not come along?'"

_They did bring you along to the Ministry…_

"Didn't want to though, did they?" Ginny realized that she was talking aloud to the voice in the back of her head. Oddly enough, she was less concerned by this truth and more relieved the voice was not speaking about its usual favorite subject.

"Harry Potter!"

Ginny's head snapped up from the Pygmy Puff cage. That wasn't her crazy head-voice, that was out loud. Turning back to the giggly group of girls gathered 'round the love potions display, she immediately picked out the owner of the voice that had caught her attention. It was Romilda Vane, a soon-to-be fourth year Gryffindor with long black hair, pretty enough, whom Ginny did not know well but did not like.

"But Romilda," squealed one of her gibbering friends, "do you really think you'll need it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Romilda said airily, with the impression of one who did not want to seem as though she thought this conversation was terribly important. "Probably not, but you never know. He is always hanging around that Hermione Granger."

"Oh!" said another girl. "I heard she likes Ron Weasley!"

Romilda wrinkled up her nose at this. "Who would?" she asked with a snort.

Without realizing it, Ginny cracked the knuckles on both of her hands.

"But how will you give it to him?" asked the first girl, seemingly determined to remain undeterred from her original line of questioning. Romilda looked at the girl for a moment, then hefted the large bottle of purple potion that Ginny had just noticed she was carrying.

"I suppose," she said lazily, "I could slip it into something and offer it to him, if I need to. Gillywater, maybe."

If she had disliked Romilda before, Ginny suddenly found herself feeling positively hateful of the girl now. Slip Harry a love potion? Over her _stupefied_ body she would. Ginny whipped our her wand and, grasping it tightly, took a step towards the pack of silly little fourth years, determined to teach them a…

"Hi, Gin!"

Ginny spun around, shoving her wand in her pocket. There, traipsing in from the street, was Dean. In all her consternation, Ginny had completely forgotten she was supposed to meet him. Silently reprimanding herself for, again, being the worst girlfriend in known creation, she smiled at the approaching boy.

"Hello, Dean!" she said brightly. Sneaking a glance behind her, she saw that the gaggle of fourth years had dispersed. She caught a glimpse of Romilda disappearing down a far aisle, but could not tell if she was still carrying the bottle of love potion.

Ginny turned back to Dean to find him almost right on top of her. Startled, she took a step backwards. "So… you found me!" she said, and immediately gave herself a mental smack in the head for having said something so lame. She simply HAD to improve the quality of her conversations with Dean.

Dean did not seem to notice her lameness. "Yeah!" he said, grinning happily. "Poked around a bit, then realized you'd likely be at your brother's shop." He glanced at his watch. "Don't have long, I'm afraid. My mum's just picking up the last of my supplies, then we have to hurry home. She's a Muggle, you know," Dean added. "I don't really feel safe with her out and about in our world these days."

Ginny nodded compassionately. "Right," she said. "I understand. I wish we had a little more time, though." She was surprised to find that she meant it; she knew they'd have time together back at Hogwarts, but she simply had to make more of an effort to get to know her boyfriend!

Dean smiled broadly. "Yeah, me too," he said. "Looks like I just have enough time to buy your present."

Ginny blinked in surprise. "My… my what?" she stammered. She simply was not expecting that. Had she forgotten an anniversary? Did they even HAVE an anniversary yet? And if so, an anniversary of what, exactly?

"Your birthday present," Dean said. "August eleventh, right?"

"That's right," said Ginny, stunned that Dean knew when her birthday fell. "But you really don't have to…"

Dean waved her silent. "Pssh," he said. "'Course I do. Now… what would you like? Mind you, I don't have THAT much money, but…" he finished the statement with a slightly roguish grin. Ginny smiled, quite involuntarily. Fully intent though she was on insisting against a present, she couldn't help but glance in the direction of the golden cage with its rolling, twittering fuzzballs.

"What are they?" asked Dean. Approaching the cage, he wrinkled up his nose and peered in.

"Pygmy Puffs," answered Ginny. "Miniature puffskeins. Adorable, aren't they?"

Dean looked at her, a crooked smile on his face and one eyebrow raised slightly. "If you say so."

"I do say so," Ginny replied, smiling back, and feeling just a bit tingly all of a sudden.

"Right," said Dean. "Which one?"

"Oh, you don't have to…"

"Which one?"

"That one," said Ginny, pointing definitively at the one she had earlier tickled.

Nodding, Dean carefully opened the cage and scooped out the little purple puffball. "Squirmy little bloke," he said, closing the cage. "What do you think you'll call…"

"Don't you think it'd be best to let the proprietors open the cage, mate?"

Ginny and Dean looked up from the Pygmy Puffs to see George at the counter looking sternly down at them.

"Oh, sorry, George!" Dean quickly stammered. "Just thought I'd…"

"George?!" Her brother looked down at Dean in mock surprise. "I am Fred, you impudent cad!"

"No you are not, George!" shot back Ginny. George threw her a glance, then looked back to Dean.

"Calling me the wrong name, opening up cages in my shop, all the while getting just a little too familiar with my sister!" George was getting on a thundering good roll now. "Just what is YOUR name, young man?!" Dean, for his part, looked overwhelmed and bowled over by this sudden confrontation, but Ginny glowered back at her brother.

"Oh, come off it!" she scoffed. "You bloody well know who Dean is; you went to school with him for four and a half years!" She then turned to Dean, who still looked quite unsure of what to do next. "Although," she said thoughtfully, "Dean might not know who you are. After all, you are a matched set. Dean," she said, the mock helpfulness in her voice oozing insincerity, "this is my older brother George, not to be confused with my older brother Fred. You can tell this is George," she continued, "because he's the one nobody likes."

"He's also a right ugly git," added Fred, now stepping behind the counter. "Whereas I am the handsomest wizard in the establishment. Hello, Mr. Thomas. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Ginny looked at Dean. She knew her brothers could be intimidating, but silently, she was desperately urging him to find his voice.

Unfortunately, when he did, he said perhaps the most non-intimidating thing he possibly could have. "Pygmy Puff," he croaked, placing one of the little creature that Ginny had picked out onto the counter.

Fred and George looked at each other, eyebrows raised. "A Pygmy Puff, Dean?" asked Fred. "Is there something else you'd like to tell us?"

"It's not for me!" Dean hastily added. "It's for Ginny. For her birthday."

"Oh," said Fred, seemingly mollified. "I suppose that's all right, then. Wouldn't you say, George?"

"Well…" began George. Ginny glared at him; he'd better not make this whole ordeal more awkward than he already had. "Seeing as how he is buying presents for our little sister, as he should be," said George, having caught Ginny's glare, "and he's, even better, buying them from us… I suppose we can allow it."

Dean noticeably exhaled. "Thanks, chaps," he said, pushing payment across the counter. He turned and handed Ginny the Pygmy Puff. "And for you."

Ginny delighted at the playful little fuzzball now rolling around in her hand. She was tickling what she assumed was its chin and wondering what to call him when she heard Fred's voice say, "Candy, Dean?" She looked up to see Dean taking a sweet out of a box being offered by Fred.

"No!" she shouted, and snatched the Puking Pastille from Dean just as he was about to pop it into his mouth. She snapped the treat in half and offered the orange half to Fred. "Split it?" she said sweetly.

Fred and George glared at her for a moment, and then broke into wide grins. They looked at a perplexed Dean. "Good luck with this one, mate," said George.

"You're going to need it," added Fred. Before Ginny could rebuke them, they had both turned to help other customers. Dean reached down, grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her out of the shop.

Outside, he turned to her. "Well," he thought, "that went better than I expected."

Admittedly, Ginny had to agree. "Yes," she said. "You still have all of your fingers, so I'd say that's a plus." Dean laughed. Ginny didn't. Dean stopped.

"You're serious?" he asked.

"You never know with those two," she said. "No, don't worry," she hastily added, noting the sudden panic in Dean's face. "They're really harmless. You just can't show fear. They can smell fear."

Dean nodded. "Right," he said, breaking out into a grin. "I suppose I'll just need to get used to them, eh?"

"Right," Ginny said, smiling back. Dean was a good-looking boy, she had to admit, and he was a perfectly nice catch. After all, he had been utterly charming about buying her a birthday present; she still couldn't half believe he had remembered the date at all. She had the sudden feeling that it would be fun to see if this relationship could actually go somewhere when they got back to Hogwarts and were able to spend some real time together. She glanced behind her involuntarily; her mum would notice she'd left the shop soon. "Listen," she said, turning back to Dean, "I'd better head back MMMPPH!"

Without warning, Dean's lips were upon hers, and being caught off-guard as she was, it was rather like being attacked by a flobberworm, if flobberworms ever attacked anything, which they didn't. Ginny enjoyed a good snog as much as the next girl, surely, and Dean was certainly more talented in that department than Michael Corner had been, but even as she tried to enjoy what she could of this impromptu mash-session, she was acutely aware that they were outside of her brother's store, in the middle of Diagon Alley, in broad daylight, where her mother could walk right out and see them, or her father, or Fred or George or Hagrid or Ron or Hermione…

… _or Harry._

With a gasp, Ginny pulled away from Dean. He had a dopey grin plastered across his face. _As well he should_, Ginny thought.

"Wow," said Dean, "I've certainly missed you."

_You've certainly missed IT._

"Right," she said instead, smiling as well but surreptitiously glancing around to make sure none of her family had seen them.

… _or Harry._

"See you on the Express?" she said, hoping to change the subject.

"Sure," Dean replied jovially. "Save you a seat?"

For a second, Ginny's memory flashed back guiltily to the trip home following the previous end of term, when she had chosen to sit with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna instead of with Dean. "Absolutely," she said. "Can't wait."

"Dean!" Dean glanced over his shoulder. A middle-aged woman in Muggle clothing was waving to him. He turned back to Ginny.

"Got to go," he said. "See you on the first!" With that, he was off.

"Thanks for the present!" Ginny called after him feebly, but he was already out of earshot. Ginny thought for just a moment that it wouldn't have killed him to introduce her to his mum, not that he had to or anything, but… her thoughts were interrupted by her own mother and Hagrid rushing frantically out of the store.

"Oh, there's Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said absently, but Hagrid didn't seem to be listening; instead, he was scanning the passing crowd anxiously.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"Have you seen Ron, Harry, and Hermione?" her mother asked, looking at the passing witches and wizards as well, although she certainly couldn't see anywhere close to as far away as could the mountainous Hagrid.

"No, mum," Ginny said, stroking the Pygmy Puff sitting on her shoulder that she had just then decided to name Arnold. "But I'm sure they're fine, wherever they are." Her mother, however, had stopped listening at the word "No".

Hagrid and her mother continued to anxiously pace in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, as if doing so would cause the three friends to magically appear. Just as Ginny was about turn and head back into the shop, she felt something brush past her, and glancing at the doorway, she caught a glimpse of a trainer under an invisibility cloak hurrying inside.

Shaking her head, she followed Ron, Harry and Hermione into the store. Honestly, they were going to have to realize that they were simply too big to all fit under that cloak together anymore.


	7. Chapter 6: The Slug Club

Ron, Hermione, and Harry spent more time cooped up together whispering than they had before the trip to Diagon Alley, Ginny noticed with some irritation. Something had happened there, something they were not willing to share with her, and the more she tried to ignore it the more annoyed she became. Whenever she began to grumble about it her mother would warn her off with a stern look clearly meant to communicate a reminder about their prior conversation regarding Professor Dumbledore's wish that Harry, Ron, and Hermione be given time in private to discuss… whatever it is he wanted them to discuss. Still, Ginny was not a little sister for nothing, and while her brother and her two friends were terribly secretive, she did manage to pick up a word or two here or there. None that made much sense to her, unfortunately, save for one time when she was sure she overheard Harry mumbling discontentedly about Draco Malfoy, which was certainly nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing she could imagine Dumbledore caring about.

Eventually, the dates on the calendar slipped closer and closer to September 1st, the hours of the days grew shorter, and the games of two-a-side Quidditch grew fewer and far between. When not holed up whispering with Harry, Hermione and her brother returned to their usual practice of bickering and flirting-but-not-really, which left she and Harry to roll their eyes at the would-be lovebirds, and make up ruder and more colourful jokes about Bill and Fleur.

On one particularly irksome afternoon, Ginny found herself trapped in the kitchen with an armful of fresh laundry, gritting her teeth into a fine powder as Phlegm rambled on and on about what colors Ginny's bridesmaid dress would NOT be. Never mind that Ginny had never been ASKED to be a bridesmaid; it was just assumed.

When she finally managed to escape, she tromped up the steps and almost ran headlong into Harry, exiting Fred and George's room with laundry of his own and looking a great deal as annoyed as she felt.

"I wouldn't go in the kitchen just now," she warned him. "There's a lot of Phlegm around."

Harry smiled, his whole demeanour suddenly seeming to chipper up. "I'll be careful not to slip in it," he replied. They smirked at each other and continued on their separate ways.

This, Ginny had found, was how many of their exchanges went these days, each of them trying to one-up the other's jokes about Fleur or about Ron and Hermione. She noticed that it was quite a different Harry she was encountering this summer than the one she had known all of last year, or even the one who seemed so deep in conversation so often with his two best friends. She had once briefly mused about what it could be that inspired his changes in attitude when they spent time together, but only briefly, as she had come to the conclusion that he simply didn't take her as mature enough to understand the weight of the responsibility he carried. THAT thought had quickly ruined her own good mood, so she tried her best not to have it more often than she could help.

Pushing the door to Percy's room open with her foot, Ginny dumped all her laundry out onto the bed. By maternal decree, their school trunks absolutely, positively had to be packed before going to bed. Mrs. Weasley seemed determined to avoid the mad dash to the train that arrived along with every September 1st, and Ginny had stalled on her packing until the absolute last possible moment. Her belongings were strewn all over Percy's room, and as with every year, she had no idea how she would fit them all into her trunk. Adding insult to injury, of course, was Hermione's trunk, sitting neatly packed next to the conjured bed that its owner now sat on, idly thumbing through her brand new copy of Advanced Potion Making.

"Look at you," said Ginny, shaking her head. "Already packed, and you use the extra free time to read text books."

"I have to!" said Hermione, lowering the book and with a genuine touch of panic in her voice. "I've barely even looked at this one yet! I've only finished it up to chapter five, and I'll get hardly any time to read it on the train tomorrow!"

Ginny smiled and picked up the package of Chocolate Frogs that Harry had gotten her for her birthday. A lesser witch might have complained about the gift being impersonal, but seeing as Harry would probably never use the scarf she had made him, and she would certainly eat all of the Chocolate Frogs, Ginny figured they were even. She popped a Frog in her mouth as she said, "Hermione, do you have any idea how bad you make the rest of us look?"

Hermione looked over her book, a puzzled expression on her face. "No," she responded. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind," smiled Ginny, tossing the rest of the candy into the trunk and beginning to pack in earnest.

As it was, all of the trunks were packed when morning came for them, and as was the way at the end of every summer, it seemed that school was starting up again almost as soon as it had ended for the break in term. Half asleep still, Ginny emerged from Percy's room, thankfully saying good-bye to it, along with Hermione. Both girls were dragging their school trunks behind them.

"Remember, Ginny," intoned Hermione, "Ron and I will have to patrol the corridors of the train first, being prefects. But after a bit we'll join you and Harry in the compartment."

"Actually," Ginny said, "I can't. I promised Dean I'd sit with him."

"Oh!" Hermione seemed surprised, but then shrugged. "Well, that makes sense, I suppose, doesn't it?"

They had all barely made it outside when the cars from the Ministry came driving up to The Burrow. As Bill and Ginny's dad packed the Hogwarts trunks in the back, Fleur glided up to Harry. "Au revoir, 'Arry," she said, kissing him on both cheeks, and leaving Harry speechless. Ginny and Hermione both stared daggers at Fleur and Ginny was about to offer a not-too-subtle opinion on her good-bye to Harry, when an even better opportunity suddenly ran past in the form of Ron, apparently hoping to get a similar farewell. He was already almost past her by the time Ginny stuck out her foot and sent him sprawling in the dirt.

"Very nice," muttered Hermione.

"I'm slipping," Ginny mumbled back, frowning. "He almost got past me. I must be getting old." But as Ron hurried into the car, Harry threw Ginny a smile and an approving nod as well. She suddenly felt a hundred times better.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley got into the first car, and the four teenagers the second. They clambered into the backseat, which had been magically stretched to accommodate the four of them and the cages for their pets. "I could get used to travelling like this," mused Ginny as she absently stroked Arnold in his cage as the car pulled out.

"At least someone enjoys it," muttered Harry.

"Oh, come on," Ginny mock-chided him. "You may be a marked-man deserving of Ministry protection, Harry, but look!" She reached into a charmed cooling tray built into the side of the car and pulled out two bottles. "Free pumpkin juice!"

Harry grinned. "Well, that makes it all worthwhile, doesn't it?" he replied, taking the bottle. Hermione took one as well, but Ron initially refused, still smarting over the incident with Fleur. The offer of free food, though, was too tempting, and he quickly got over it.

The car pulled up to King's Cross with four relatively happy youths inside, but the dour-faced Aurors that walked up and yanked Harry out put a damper on things. Their trunks were unceremoniously dumped onto carts and the entire party was quickly hurried into the station. "Pretty much prefer Hagrid on security," mumbled Ron. Ginny was inclined to agree.

Upon reaching the entrance to platform nine-and-three-quarters, the surlier of the two Aurors quickly ushered Harry through the barrier, with Ron and Hermione following behind. Ginny, her parents, and the second Auror went next, and then they were standing next to the Hogwarts Express, saying their goodbyes.

"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes," said Ginny's mum, who then pulled Ron into a quick hug. "Have a lovely term, Ron. You too, Hermione," she added as she pulled Hermione into the hug as well. Waiting for her own hug, Ginny noticed Harry surreptitiously pull her father aside. Before she had a moment to consider eavesdropping, her mother was upon her, hugging her tightly.

"Have a good term, Ginevra," she said. She then pulled back, keeping her hands firmly on her daughter's shoulders. A moment passed, and then Molly implored, "Be careful, dear. These are dark times."

The candour shocked Ginny. She nodded, and said, "I will, mum. You, too." Her mother nodded, and then glanced down the platform to where Harry was emphatically explaining something to her father.

"Keep an eye on Harry," her mum said, surprising Ginny again.

"Harry will be fine," Ginny heard herself say, while her mind was spinning, wondering if her mother knew something she didn't. "He has Ron and Hermione looking out for him."

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I wish that was more comforting," she said with a wry smile. "Now, quick-as-you-go, on the train."

Ginny gave her mother one last fast hug, and then hurried towards the Hogwarts Express. She was about to heave her trunk onto the train when it was suddenly torn out of her hands. "Hey!" she began, spinning and reaching for her wand, only to find Dean standing next to her, her trunk in his hand.

"Got that," he said, then turned and took Arnold's cage as well.

"Dean," said Ginny, mildly annoyed. "I can carry my own trunk."

"Not while I'm around, you can't," replied Dean cheerily, shoving her trunk on board and climbing up after it. "Now come on, train's about to leave!"

Ginny supposed she should be flattered, and that Dean was only being chivalrous, and that she should be flattered again when he turned and helped her onto the Express itself. She was having trouble, though, denying the mild irritation she felt at such actions. Still, in the interest of being a good girlfriend, she pushed those feelings aside. "We're down this way," indicated Dean, pointing towards the front of the train. "Seamus got here early, put dibs on compartment B." Dean started to pull her down the corridor, but she gently - yet firmly - pulled her hand from his.

"Wait," she said. "I saw some friends I'd like to say hello to first."

"All right," said Dean cheerily. He then leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. "Missed you," he whispered, and then was quickly gone, headed down the corridor with her possessions in tow, leaving Ginny smiling in his wake.

"That's one way to start term," said a voice to Ginny's left. She turned and saw Demelza Robins, a quiet fourth-year girl with whom she was friends, approaching.

"Demelza!" Ginny greeted her warmly. The two girls embraced. "How was your summer?"

"It was all right," Demelza said. "Lots of talking about the Ministry and You-Know-Who, just like everyone else, it seems." Ginny nodded; she knew exactly what the younger girl meant. "But," continued Demelza, growing a little pink, "I've decided to go out for Quidditch!"

"That's excellent!" said Ginny, and meant it. She had flown with Demelza before, and while the girl could use a little aggressiveness, she was quick and agile, and her aim was true. She would make a very solid Chaser.

Demelza nodded. "I don't know what my chances will be, honestly. I figure with you and Katie Bell, there's only one Chaser spot left."

"But neither Katie nor I are guaranteed spots," Ginny protested.

Demelza gave her a disbelieving look. "You and Katie are the best fliers in Gryffindor, after Harry," she said. "Even if you two have to try out, you're shoo-ins. Wait… if Katie has to try-out, did Harry get made captain?"

"He did," Ginny replied. "He was at The Burrow when the Hogwarts letters came. He got the captain's badge with his letter."

Demelza looked worried. "But Katie's senior member! Do you think she'll be upset?"

"Absolutely not!" Demelza and Ginny turned to see Katie walking past with another seventh-year, a Hufflepuff named Leanne. "Harry's the best player on the team now, and has a better head for strategy than me," said Katie. "I assumed he'd get the captaincy, and I whole-heartedly approve! See you girls on the pitch!"

"That answers that," said Ginny as Katie and Leanne walked away. Demelza nodded in agreement just as Colin Creevey came hurrying up to them, looking more agitated than usual.

"Ginny! Ginny!" he said, slightly breathless.

"Hi, Colin," Ginny answered. "Good summer?" But Colin ignored her questions.

"I need to talk to you, Ginny," he said, blushing slightly. "It's about… something you may have heard." He glanced to his right, and for the first time Ginny noticed that standing behind him, her arms folded, was Natalie MacDonald, a third year with wavy brown hair pulled back and a perturbed look on her face. She was the smallest girl in her year, almost a full head shorter than Ginny, but her personality was big enough for three girls her size. At the end of the prior term it had been Natalie who had supplied the information that Colin was carrying a bit of a crush for Ginny. Ginny suddenly had a fairly good idea what it was Colin wanted to talk about.

"Anyway," Colin continued, "it's been brought up, Ginny, that maybe, maybe you heard something about me, and it's something that I have to say that, well, to be completely truthful… what I'm trying to say is, Ginny, is that…."

"Natalie told me that perhaps you fancied me a bit," Ginny interjected. The eyes of Demelza, Natalie, and Colin went wide at her lack of subtlety, but Ginny had long since decided to adhere to a policy of brutal honesty whenever she could. It had cost her some friendships, but had left the more important ones even stronger than before.

"Well…" stammered Colin, regaining his composure, "well, yes. But it isn't true!" he quickly added. "It isn't! I know you have a boyfriend, and I'm just… well, I'm not interested in you like that, Ginny, I promise."

Ginny nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Colin," she said. "I'm glad you cleared that up. I'd hate for things to be awkward between us."

Colin smiled in return. "So you believe me?"

"Yes, Colin, I believe you."

"And we can still be friends?"

"Yes, Colin, of course we can!"

"Good!" Although seemingly relieved, Colin still had an air of nervousness about him; then again, figured Ginny, that could just be Colin. "All right, then. I'm going back to my compartment!" Colin continued. "See you at the feast?" And with that, he hurried off.

No sooner had he gotten out of earshot than Natalie turned to Ginny and said definitively, "He likes you."

Demelza nodded. "He's mad for you," she offered. Ginny just sighed.

"I don't think so," she said, but the other two girls glanced at each other and laughed.

"Please," said Natalie. "He's so obvious, and Dennis insists it's true. He wouldn't lie to me."

"Why wouldn't he lie to you?" asked Ginny.

"Because I'm his girlfriend!" Natalie scoffed. "Didn't you know?"

Ginny did not. She had imagined Natalie to be too young to have a boyfriend, honestly, but even as she thought it she realized it made her sound like her brothers, and decided to keep that opinion to herself. Natalie turned to Demelza. "Come on," she said to the older girl. "You're sitting with me. I can't be stuck in a compartment by myself with the Creevey brothers all the way to Hogwarts."

"All right," said Demelza, then turned to Ginny. "See you at the feast?"

"Oh, right," Natalie mused. "Dean. Almost forgot about him. Later today, then?" And with that, Demelza and Natalie walked off together, arm in arm. Ginny watched them go, a smile on her face. The girls in her own year, she was not friends with. They all seemed to still be unable to separate in their minds Ginny as she was now from 11-year-old-Ginny-with-the-diary. The younger girls, however, those who were not at Hogwarts in her first year, she found she liked very much, and Demelza and Natalie were on the top of that list. Lost in those thoughts, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Harry standing behind her, looking slightly agitated and still hauling his trunk.

"Fancy trying to find a compartment?" he asked. Still smiling, her exchange with her friends fresh in her mind, Ginny shook her head apologetically.

"I can't, Harry," she said brightly, "I said I'd meet Dean. See you later." With that, she turned and walked towards the front of the train, trying to remember which compartment Dean had said he was in. C? B? It was one of those first letters, she was sure…

She had only taken a few steps when she stopped. She couldn't place it, but she had the distinct feeling that somebody was watching her. No, staring at her. She turned on her heel and looked back to where she had left Harry, but he was turned away from her. It couldn't have been anyone in a nearby compartment, as they were all staring… at Harry. Her mood darkened considerably. This attention was not at all what Harry would want, but she didn't know how he could avoid it, and she felt dreadfully for him. Then she realized something else. Not only was Harry being stared at, but it seemed he was being actively crushed by an adoring throng of fifth, fourth, and third year girls that were pushing in on him.

Her mind instantly went back to Romilda Vane in her brother's shop, waving around love potions. Apparently, instant celebrity and being proclaimed "The Chosen One" by The Daily Prophet made somebody significantly more attractive than they had already been…

… _if that were even possible in Harry's case._

Pretending that her brain hadn't added that last bit, Ginny began to move for the pack of girls, reaching for her wand without even realizing it. Before she could take two steps, however, Neville and Luna came along and ushered Harry away towards a rear compartment.

For a brief moment, she wanted to go with them. Ginny adored Neville, and though Luna was in Ravenclaw, she might have been the closest friend Ginny had within her own year. Not to mention that Ron and Hermione would certainly be joining them soon enough. As for Harry…

But, she reminded herself firmly, she had a boyfriend, and she had promised. With only the slightest reluctance, Ginny turned and began to walk towards the front of the train. As she went, she greeted Hannah Abbott and Ernie MacMillan from Hufflepuff, and Lisa Turpin, a sixth-year Ravenclaw. She passed a compartment where Michael Corner, her ex-boyfriend, sat with his new girlfriend and Harry's ex, Cho Chang. They were both trying very hard not to look at her. With them was Marietta Edgecombe, whose thick layer of make-up did not completely hide the pimples on her face that spelled out the word "SNEAK". Ginny smiled to herself; Hermione was a remarkably talented witch.

A few compartments down, she waved with a smirk to Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, the two incompetent but hysterical fifth year Gryffindors who had subbed with her on the Quidditch team the previous year. They reminded her of Fred and George, to be honest, but without the intelligence or any discernable talent. They had each asked her out after she had broken up with Michael and before she had started going out with Dean; she had gently turned both of them down. Neither had seemed overly upset about it, and as they were lounging in a compartment with a couple of third year Hufflepuff girls, she imagined they were doing just fine.

She elbowed through Millicent Bulstrode and that other Slytherin girl whose name she still couldn't remember but whom she had quietly decided to just refer to as "Belch", as she was sure that must be close. For her trouble, she received a couple of elbows to the ribs herself, nothing she couldn't take. Fleetingly she wondered if they felt guilty at all for their actions last year, holding her and her friends' hostage in Umbridge's office, but quickly dismissed such thoughts when she realized their foolishness. Of course they didn't feel guilty, and nor did she for hexing them.

Finally she reached compartment B, almost all the way at the front of the train. Dean must have seen her approaching, as he leaped out of his seat and slid open the compartment door for her, holding out his hand. "M'lady," he said, smiling rakishly. Fixing a grin on her face, Ginny accepted his hand and allowed herself to be led into the compartment even as she screamed in her head, I can bloody well walk into a train compartment all by myself, thank you very much! But she smiled, and took the seat next to Dean.

"'Ello, Gin!" Seamus greeted her, as did the compartment's other two occupants, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. All in Ron's year, Ginny knew the group well enough, but not exceptionally well. Still…

"Hello," she replied, smiling in return. "Everyone have pleasant summers?" And they all launched, one-by-one, into their "what-I-did-this-summer" diatribes, all of which were indeed pleasant enough descriptions… but uneventful. Ginny's mind wandered further down the train to where by now, surely, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were situated with Neville and Luna, discussing Voldemort and Death Eaters and The Order of the Phoenix and the battle at the Ministry of Magic. Idly, she realized that the company she was presently keeping had yet to ask about her adventures at the Ministry, for which she was grateful… although that could explain the sidelong glances Parvati and Lavender were exchanging with each other.

"Umm… Ginny?" Ginny shook herself out of her thoughts and realized that there had just been a silence of a good twenty seconds. She had completely and quite unintentionally tuned out of the conversation, and now found Dean staring at her quizzically. "You all right?"

Ginny nodded her head vigorously. "I'm fine," she said. "Sorry. Just… my mind wandered." For an instant, she wondered if this was what it felt like to be Harry in those moments when he was seemingly hundreds of miles away from everyone. Somehow, she doubted it.

"Well, who can blame you?" chirped Lavender. "With Seamus prattling on as he was about every Quidditch match he attended over break. Really, who cares?" She added that last with a haughty sniff. Ginny thought rather grumpily that she cared, and that she rather liked discussing Quidditch matches, and she had furthermore tuned out while Lavender was with panting breath describing the July day when she had stalked one of The Daily Prophet's "10 Most Eligible Wizards in England" for twenty storefronts in Diagon Alley.

Of course, she didn't say any of this, as she did not want to seem "witchy" to Dean's friends so early in the go of things. "So, Lavender…" she began in an effort to seem polite. Lavender, however, cut her off.

"Now, Ginny, I'm glad you're here. I have some questions to ask you."

Ginny blinked in surprise. "Er… all right. What is it?"

"Tell me about Ron."

Ginny waited for another moment, but there seemed to be no further explanation forthcoming. "What about Ron?" she asked, and as she did she noticed that Parvati was rolling her eyes and Dean and Seamus were stifling laughs. She suddenly realized with a dropping feeling in the pit of her stomach just where this conversation was headed.

"You know!" said Lavender, impatiently. "Tell me about him!"

"Well, he's tall, bit gangly, complete prat, too many freckles…"

"No!" Lavender nearly shouted. "Tell me about him!"

Ginny decided playing dumb was far more palatable than actually entering into this conversation in earnest. "Lavender, I couldn't possibly imagine what you are getting at."

"Come on, Ginny!" pleaded Lavender. "And you three stop it!" By now, Seamus and Dean were practically doubled over in their efforts not to laugh, and Parvati had joined in. Ginny could hardly blame them, as she was certain if she looked up the word "awkward" in the dictionary she would find a script of this conversation.

"Lavender," she said, "I would really rather not discuss your romantic interests in my brother. I would really, really rather not discuss that. Really."

"But Ginny…!"

"I will beg you to stop if I have to, Lavender! It won't be pretty, but I will beg!"

Lavender, however, would not be denied. "Just tell me," she pleaded, "do you think he would fancy me?"

"Um… sure?"

"What's his type?"

"I honestly have no…"

"He's not with Hermione Granger, is he?"

At this, Ginny hesitated. She had to be careful how she answered, she knew, for numerous reasons. "Not… as such," she began, but was again cut-off by Lavender.

"See?" she said triumphantly to Parvati. "I told you!"

Parvati again rolled her eyes. "If you say so," she said. Ginny wasn't sure if Parvati was speaking to she or to Lavender, but was sure Parvati didn't believe it. Ginny didn't either. She turned back to Lavender.

"Not that I want to prolong this discussion, but why the sudden interest in Ron?"

Lavender sighed at the mention of Ron's name. With an effort, Ginny suppressed her gag reflex. "He's just so… I don't know. Dashing, I suppose." At this, Dean and Seamus fairly howled. Ginny didn't know whether to be horrified at Lavender's description of Ron as "dashing" or be offended at Dean and Seamus' reaction to it.

"It was that business at the Ministry, you know?" continued Lavender. "Well, of course you know, don't you? You were…"

"We're not talking about that." The firmness in Ginny's voice startled the others silent for a moment. Although what had happened at the Ministry was sure to be the hot topic at start of term this year, Ginny and the others had long since determined that the specifics of that event were only to be distributed on a "need-to-know" basis, and she was fairly certain that nobody in this compartment needed to know.

"Fine," sniffed Lavender, recovering. "But whatever happened, Ron was there as part of the D.A., wasn't he? I mean, we all practiced together, and that was fun, but Ron was out there doing things, wasn't he? It's so… heroic." That last bit was said with a swoon. Ginny was certain Parvati would have liked nothing more than to grab Lavender by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. It didn't seem a bad idea, really. For a brief instant, the image of Fleur popped into her head, walking down the aisle, marrying her brother, becoming part of her family. Ginny replaced that image with one of Lavender. She felt a sudden sense of panic gripping her.

"Listen, Lavender," Ginny began, feeling as though she were bargaining for her brother's soul, "Ron wasn't the only boy at the Ministry that night. You know, there's Neville, and there's… well, there's Neville."

But Lavender wrinkled up her nose at this. "Neville? Ew, no, Ginny!" Ginny felt her face flame up red, but before she could do so, Seamus jumped to Neville's defence.

"Ah, c'mon, Lav," he said. "Neville's all right. He's a good bloke." Parvati and Dean also nodded their agreements.

"Oh, no, he's perfectly nice," Lavender hastened to say. "But… he's Neville! I mean, I just couldn't, could I?"

Ginny had a few choice words in mind for that, but then Dean spoke up. "What about Harry? I'm pretty sure things didn't work out with him and Cho Chang. Did they, Gin?"

Harry's name was the last Ginny wanted brought up into this conversation; still, she couldn't lie about it. "Things did not work out with Harry and Cho Chang, as I understand it," she said through clenched teeth. If Lavender Brown thought she was going to try and ensnare Harry… or Ron or Neville, for that matter…

"Harry's not good boyfriend material," Parvati spoke up.

"Why not?" asked Seamus.

"You interested, mate?" asked Dean with a grin. Seamus elbowed Dean good-naturedly, laughing as he did so. But Ginny wanted to hear Parvati's explanation.

"Why isn't he good boyfriend material, Parvati?" she asked, trying to remain as calm as she could even though she could feel her pulse pounding in her forehead.

"He would be," Parvati said thoughtfully. "Only it seems it would be a bit dangerous to date him, doesn't it?" She dropped her voice to almost a whisper. "After all, You-Know-Who wants him for who-knows-what. Being Harry Potter's girlfriend seems as though it would be a risky proposition, if you ask me." As she said this last, she threw a meaningful glance in Ginny's direction, then Dean's. Before Ginny could open her mouth to retort, the compartment door slid open with a bang.

"Oi! What happened at the Ministry of Magic?" Zacharias Smith, sixth year Hufflepuff, stood in the doorway, arms folded and looking just as pompous as always.

"Good to see you too, Zacharias," muttered Dean.

"Could you be any ruder?" chimed in Parvati. Ginny gave her a glance of thanks, and felt suddenly guilty over that flash of anger she had just had towards the girl.

But Zacharias didn't seem to mind his own rudeness. "The train is buzzing," he continued. "Figure nobody's going to give you any real peace until the whole story is out. I'd be doing you a favor to spread the word."

"How kind," Ginny said drolly.

"Potter and Granger and your brother won't say anything, and Longbottom and Loony Lovegood are useless." Ginny slowly reached for her wand. "So I figure if I want the full story I'll have to come to you."

"One warning, Zacharias," Ginny said menacingly. She could feel her temper beginning to rise. "That's all you're getting. I'm not discussing the Ministry of Magic, especially not with the likes of you, so you can just shove off."

But Zacharias shook his head imperiously. "Everyone's going to be talking, Weasley. You may as well get it out in the open and over with. Come on, now."

Unseen to Zacharias, Ginny tightened her grip on her wand. If the boy insisted on being a pompous blowhard… "All right, Zacharias. You're right." Her companions turned to look at her, surprised. "It began like this." And with that, she whipped out her wand and shouted "_Chiroptera Mucosa!_"

Lavender shrieked and the rest of her companions jumped as Zacharias flew backwards through the open doorway and out onto the corridor floor, struggling and gasping with the bat-bogey creatures that were clambering out of his nose. "That's better," said Ginny satisfactorily, tucking her wand away. She looked at the shocked expressions around her. "What?" she asked sweetly. "I warned him. Besides, I wasn't lying; that IS how it all began."

From out in the corner, they heard a voice she did not recognize exclaim "_Finite Incantatem!_"and the green winged creatures flocking around Zacharias' head were no more. "There, there, young man," said the voice in a tone that rested somewhere between comforting and patronizing. "No harm done. Why don't you run along, there's a good chap?" Zacharias nodded dumbly, glanced a look back at Ginny, and with one hand over his nose ran off down the corridor. A moment later, the owner of the voice came into view. It was a short little man with a shiny bald head and a walrus-like silver moustache, with a belly as round as he was tall covered in a velvet, gold-buttoned waistcoat. Although Ginny had never seen him before, she immediately knew two things about him: this was clearly an individual who enjoyed the creature comforts of life… and this was clearly a teacher. She wondered idly if anyone had ever been expelled before the Hogwarts Express reached school.

"Hello, students!" the bald little man greeted them warmly. "I am Professor Horace Slughorn, and I will be joining you this year at Hogwarts. I look forward to getting to know you all, yes, yes, all of you, but first…" Professor Slughorn cleared his throat and took on a more serious tone. "That spell. Cast on that boy in the corridor. I don't suppose any of you know who cast it, do you?"

"It was me, Professor." Ginny stood up; she wanted to take the blame quickly, so as not to give Dean any ideas of taking it himself. A quick glance at him, however, seemed to indicate he had no such inclination.

"Was that you?" said the Professor, and his tone, Ginny realized, was not one of anger, but more of… amazement? Puzzled, Ginny looked closely at Professor Slughorn. His eyes twinkled and the corners of his mouth were being tugged upwards, in spite of his best efforts to look stern. "Well, I must say, miss… what is your name?"

"Ginny Weasley."

"Ah! A Weasley! I should have known. Very talented witch and wizard, your parents were. And the hair… well, Ms. Weasley," continued Slughorn, sounding more and more like a proud grandfather and less and less like a stern teacher, "that was quite an impressive bit of magic. And not, dare I say something one would find on the standard Hogwarts curriculum, eh?" Professor Slughorn chortled deeply, and let all pretence of anger drop completely. "I say," he continued, "I am having some students in my compartment for lunch; compartment C, right next door. I would be delighted to have you join us, a gifted young witch such as yourself. Now, now, I simply won't take 'no' for an answer! Lunchtime, then, just next door. 'Till then, Ms. Weasley! Looking forward to it!"

And with that, he was gone. Ginny stood staring after him, blinking, her mouth opening and closing dumbly a few times, protests she had never even had a chance to formulate dying on the tip of her tongue. She had expected a month of detention at least, and was instead invited to lunch.

She sat back down. The others were just as stunned as she, it seemed. "So," said Dean after a moment. "Are you going?"

"I think I have to," said Ginny blankly. "What's the alternative? Detention in the dungeons with Snape?"

And so, just a little while later, Ginny found herself out in the corridor, cautiously drawing back the door of compartment C. "Ms. Weasley!" came Slughorn's booming voice from inside. "So good of you to come! Here, here, have a seat! I trust you know everyone?"

Ginny eased herself into the compartment. Already seated there were Blaise Zabini, a rather good-looking Slytherin whom she detested (primarily because he tended to stare at her whenever they passed in the hall), Cormac McLaggen, a seventh year Gryffindor and a bit of a lug, and Marcus Belby, a Ravenclaw whom she knew only by name. She greeted Belby and McLaggen; she ignored Zabini on principle but could feel his eyes on her from behind.

"That was a remarkable hex you cast on that young man, Ms. Weasley. I should love to hear more about it should we get the chance as the afternoon rolls on, which," he said with a chuckle, "I think we just might. I must admit," he added, growing introspective just as Ginny was wondering if anyone else would actually get a chance to speak, "you do bear a striking resemblance to one of my old favourites… although she, of course, was more of an old hand at Potions than she was at Charms. Perhaps that similarity helped save you from a rather nasty detention earlier, eh?" He added a kindly wink that let Ginny know she had never been in any danger of detention.

"Still, old memories or not, I am glad to have you join us. Yes, some of Hogwarts' best and brightest!" Slughorn said with glee. "A wonderful opportunity for me to reacquaint myself with the younger generation! And not at all a bad opportunity for you to form connections amongst yourselves that can last a lifetime, if I do say so myself."

Hogwarts' best and brightest… Ginny had heard her father mention a Tiberius McLaggen who was well-connected at the Ministry, and Zabini's mother, if she remembered, was very famous for being beautiful and rich and having a lot of dead husbands… she was beginning to suspect that Slughorn was surrounding himself not with Hogwarts' "best and brightest", as he put it, but with students who were well-connected or who were from influential families. She didn't know anything in particular about Belby, and she herself wasn't anyone of note, really… however, if Slughorn was surrounding himself with famous, well-thought-of students, there was sure to be one person in particular on the guest list.

"We're just waiting for Harry, aren't we?"

Professor Slughorn looked at Ginny, an expression of bemusement on his face. "Why, yes, you perceptive child, we are!"

Zabini snickered. Ginny's face grew red. "I'm not a child, Professor," she snapped back at him, perhaps a bit more snarkishly than she intended.

"Of course not," said Slughorn grandly. "Forgive me. I would never intentionally insult a vivacious young redhead such as you. You must understand, Ms. Weasley, that when one reaches the advanced age I have reached, most everyone else by comparison seems dreadfully young."

"Of course," said Ginny sweetly. She was not getting a wonderful feeling about this Professor Slughorn, but far be it from her to get on the wrong side of a professor. Well, at least not before she had had even one class with him. "But about Harry."

Slughorn, and everyone else in the car, looked at her expectedly. Harry Potter, it seemed, was the most interesting topic of the day. "I'm not sure that he'll come," she said.

"You know him, then?" asked Slughorn eagerly.

"I do," said Ginny, wanting more and more to be anywhere but compartment C, "and he doesn't much care for attention, likely on account of him getting far enough of it as it is. He tends not to seek out any extra."

Zabini sneered. "That egomaniac? He can't get enough of hearing his own name and seeing his own face."

"Sounds like the pot calling the cauldron black to me, Zabini," shot back Ginny. Blaise gave her a dirty look and seemed about to retort when the door to the compartment slid open, revealing Harry and Neville, neither looking much as though they wanted to be there.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn jumped up and grasped Harry firmly by the hand, clearly relieved for the chance to change the topic. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!" Ginny noticed that Neville's hand did not get the same vigorous greeting as did Harry's. Harry and Neville sat as Slughorn gave introductions, and as they did so, she caught Harry's eye. His eyes widened, and he seemed just as surprised to see her as she felt at being there.

"… and this charming young lady tells me that she knows you!" Slughorn gestured back to her, introducing her last, but never taking his greedy eyes off of Harry. Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville; they both returned her expression with the faintest of nods. This was not going to be a fun trip.

* * *

The train was almost to Hogsmeade by the time Slughorn released them. "I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville as the students left compartment C and hurried off down the corridor, Zabini being sure to push past Harry and give him a dirty look as he did so. "Strange man isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is a bit," said Harry, watching Zabini the whole time. "How come you ended up in there, Ginny?"

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," Ginny replied, "you remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him. When Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," said Harry, scowling at the back of Zabini's head, "or because their uncle…"

Harry broke off, still staring down the corridor after Zabini. Ginny and Neville glanced at each other. They each knew from experience that Harry was likely having an idea that would probably get him into trouble. As if confirming their suspicions, Harry suddenly pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. "I'll see you two later," he murmured, pulling it over his head.

"But what're you…" Neville asked.

"Later!" whispered Harry.

"No, let us help…" began Ginny… but Harry was gone.

Neville and Ginny stood in the corridor for a moment, Neville looking nervous, Ginny threatening to boil over in frustration.

"Where do you think he's going?" asked Neville.

"I couldn't care less, honestly," lied Ginny, who was desperate herself to know what Harry was up to but too annoyed to admit it. "See you at the feast, Neville." And with that, she stomped back into compartment B, where Dean, Seamus, Lavender, and Parvati instantly demanded to know what had happened in Slughorn's compartment. "Ate lunch with a bunch of tosspots, that's all," snapped back Ginny.

"They were drinking?" asked an eager Seamus, whom Dean quickly shushed.

The train soon neared Hogsmeade Station, and the students pulled on their robes and pulled down their trunks. Ginny's annoyance towards Harry was slowly fading in spite of itself, being replaced with curiosity as to just what it was he had run off after Zabini to do. It was also being replaced by her greater annoyance with Dean, who insisted on carrying her trunk and Arnold's cage along with his trunk, which slowed them down far more than it actually helped hurry them along.

"Honestly, Dean, I can carry it," Ginny said for the umpteenth time as Dean struggled with double trunks and the Pygmy Puff cage.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Gin," said Dean, huffing and puffing. "See? We're almost there."

iAnd it only took us three years/i, Ginny thought to herself. Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender had hurried ahead to save them a carriage, and she and Dean had slowly moved from their compartment to the exit situated at the rear of the now-deserted train. Turning the corner, Dean shoved one trunk and then the other out the exit, and then almost threw Arnold's cage right into the face of Tonks, who was hurrying towards the steps of the Hogwarts Express.

"Watch yourself!" barked the young Auror. Dean mumbled a quick apology, and then hurried down the train steps. Tonks turned to Ginny. "Wotcher, Ginny." she said pleasantly.

"Hi, Tonks!" said a surprised Ginny. She was quite fond of Tonks, even if it was a bit troublesome that the young woman's formerly shocking purple hair seemed to now be a permanent mousy brown. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, just waiting for my train to come in," Tonks joked. "Say, you haven't seen Harry, have you?" she asked, her voice becoming a little too casual as she did so.

"Not for about half an hour. Why?"

"No reason. All right, off with you! Looks like there's only one carriage left. Hope your boyfriend saved you a seat. He's a looker, he is. Take care, Gin!" And with that, Tonks hopped onto the Hogwarts Express.

Ginny hurried to the last waiting carriage, pausing only slightly at the empty harness where she now knew stood a Thestral. She thought briefly how odd and lucky it was that, in spite of all she'd been through in her life, she still could not see them. She wondered vaguely how long that would stay true.

"Ginny, come on!" Dean stood at the carriage door, grinning, holding out his hand. "Don't want to miss the feast."

She was going to protest the offered hand, but suddenly found herself very tired and instead allowed herself to be helped in to the carriage. "Why, thank you, Dean," she said with a smile that seemed easier to handle just now than an argument.

"My pleasure, Virginia."

Ginny stopped, halfway in her seat. "Ginevra," she corrected him.

"What?"

"My name isn't Virginia. It's Ginevra. But never call me that." Ginny settled into her seat.

Dean's smile faltered. "But I thought… I thought…"

"Oh, Dean!" scolded Lavender.

"You're in for it, mate!" said Seamus.

Dean turned to Ginny, panic in his voice. "Ginny, I'm sorry, I…"

But Ginny waved him off. "Relax. It happens all the time. Virginia's more common than Ginevra. It's all right. Really, relax." Dean nodded and sat down, looking relieved. Ginny laughed. "Still, it is rather funny. I mean, you remember my birthday but don't know my name. I still can't believe you remembered my birthday."

"Oh, yeah," said Seamus. "Look at Dean-o, remembering birthdays all by himself."

"Shut up, Seamus," muttered Dean, directing a swift kick towards his friend.

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny.

"I didn't actually remember your birthday," Dean said sheepishly, "I was reminded."

Ginny shrugged. "That's all right. I don't think I know your birthday. Who reminded you?"

"Harry," said Dean. At this, Ginny turned to him with surprise.

"Harry?" she asked. "When did he do that?"

"Owled me over the summer," said Dean. "Told me he knew we were meeting in Diagon Alley. Said you gave him a nice birthday present and wanted to give me the chance to get one for you or something. What'd you get him, anyway?"

He had said that last with only the tiniest bit of suspicion in his voice. Ginny fought hard to keep the blush down in her face. Dean and Seamus would never notice, but Lavender and Parvati certainly would. "Just knitted him a scarf," she said casually, and then added, "Mum wanted me to practice knitting over the summer."

"You never mentioned that," said Parvati suspiciously, but Dean seemed satisfied with the answer.

They made casual small-talk over the rest of the ride to the castle, but Ginny couldn't stop thinking of Harry. She was amazed not only that he had remember her birthday, but that he had remembered to tell her boyfriend when her birthday was. Of course, she wanted to be furious at him for mentioning to anyone her present to him, but as hard as she tried, she simply couldn't keep her stomach from suddenly doing flip-flops.

_That's because he loved your present, and you love that he loved your present._

The voice in her had managed to sneak that one in. She tried to heed it no mind.

When they arrived at the castle and hurried to take their places at the Gryffindor table, Ginny looked for Harry, if not to thank him, than to… well, to punch him in the arm or something, perhaps. But Harry was not there. "Hermione," she said, turning to her friend, "where's Harry?"

"I don't know," Hermione said anxiously. "He didn't make our carriage. I thought maybe he was with you or Professor Slughorn, but…" Ginny followed Hermione's gaze to the staff table, where Slughorn was chatting animatedly with Professor Dumbledore. It suddenly seemed very odd that an Auror had been waiting at Hogsmeade Station, wondering where Harry was. She and Hermione shared an anxious look, and then Ginny sat with Dean.

The first years entered, the Sorting Hat sang it's song, the first years were sorted, and the feast began, but throughout it all, Ginny and Hermione simply stared at the main entrance to the Great Hall, willing Harry to enter.

Dinner had almost ended and Harry had yet to appear; Hermione was almost standing at the table, anxiously scanning the hall. Ron grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back into her seat. "He'll be here soon," he said, and returned to eating his chicken.

Hermione picked up her copy of Advanced Potion Making and smacked him on the arm. "Ow! What was that for?" demanded Ron.

"Will you stop eating?" Hermione nearly shouted. "Your best friend is missing!"

Ginny found she had to agree with Hermione, but Ron simply nodded towards the main doors to the Great Hall and said, "Turn around, you lunatic!"

Harry had arrived, and he was approaching the Gryffindor table, looking perturbed and with congealed blood all over his nose. "He's covered in blood again," muttered Ginny. "Why is it he's always covered in blood?"

"Well, it looks like it's his own this time," Ron offered helpfully. Hermione smacked him again as Harry sat down at the table, Hermione and Ron making room in between them for him.

"Where've you… blimey, what have you done to your face?" asked Ron, no longer so cavalier now that he could see close up just how much blood Harry had on his face.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" asked Harry, squinting into a spoon at his reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" said Hermione, repeating Ginny's observation of a moment earlier. "Come here… _Tergeo!_" With her wand, she cleared the dried blood off of Harry's face.

"Thanks," said Harry. "How's my nose looking?"

"Normal. Why shouldn't it? Harry, what happened, we've been terrified!"

Ginny wanted to hear this herself, and Harry seemed about to answer, when he glanced towards she, Dean, Neville, and Seamus, all of whom were leaning closer and closer to him in an effort to eavesdrop. "I'll tell you later," he said curtly.

"But…"

"Not now, Hermione."

And that seemed to be the end of it. Hermione began telling Harry about the sorting, Ron continued eating, and Dean, Seamus, and Neville returned to talking Quidditch and new classes, leaving Ginny to stew in her annoyance at again being denied the interesting details. Still, she hadn't been the one to have her nose bloodied somehow, so she reasoned she could forgive Harry his irritation and secrecy.

_You wouldn't be so quick to forgive anyone else, you know, my dear._

Ginny had to begrudgingly admit that the voice in her head had a point. Still, it was what it was. Dessert finished, the Gryffindors filed up to their towers, she shared a quick good-night kiss with Dean in the common room (nothing too scandalous), and went up to the bedroom she shared with the other fifth year Gryffindor girls. As she lay in bed, her mind continued to wonder where it was Harry had gone off to after the Slug Club meeting, but exhaustion quickly overcame curiosity and she fell soundly asleep after just a few minutes, thoughts of Harry Potter vanishing back into the farthest corners of her mind, just where she liked them, but where they far too often refused to stay.


	8. Chapter 7: Riddle Pieces

It was the first day of the new term, and Ginny was already going to be late for class.

Not that she cared so much, to be completely fair. She was due in just a few minutes downstairs in the dungeons for potions. This was something she normally loathed, of course, as Professor Snape had been the Potions Master at Hogwarts these past 15 years, and was not very kindly towards either Gryffindors or Weasleys. But to the great surprise of all of the students at the Sorting feast, the announcement was made that Professor Snape would now be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. As thrilled as Ginny and her friends were that Snape was no longer teaching potions, she couldn't bear the thought of his hooked nose and greasy black hair leering at them as they practiced defensive techniques. With Snape teaching the course, Ginny was of a mind they should drop the words "Defense Against" from the title.

Still, it was not Snape's class she was going to be late for. In general, students were not late for Professor Snape's classes, unless they had a bit of a defiant streak in them, which truth told, Ginny did. No, the new Potions Master of Hogwarts was Professor Slughorn, and while her personal jury was still out on him, her early impression at his gathering of influential students on the Hogwarts Express had not been terribly favorable. She still was baffled as to why she had been invited; she hardly thought casting a quality Bat Bogey Hex merited inclusion in Slughorn's gathering of the elite students of Hogwarts. She could only assume that she must very strongly resemble that old favorite student of his he had mentioned, and upon thinking about it gave silent thanks to whoever-she-was from the past that had kept her out of detention.

She did not want to push her luck with Slughorn, though. So while she was resigned to the fact that she was going to be late for her first class with the new Potions Master as she had important business to attend to, she still quickened her pace, hoping not to end up in the dungeons more than a few minutes after the start of the period.

It was going to be tough, though. The second floor corridor was nowhere near the Potions classroom, and Ginny had important business to attend to there.

The corridor was empty when she arrived, which was just how she liked it, and why she was coming here, now, when she knew most students would already be in class. She trotted nimbly down the corridor until she reached one very particular doorway. Stopping, she took a deep breath and turned to face the second floor girl's bathroom. This was the bathroom nobody used. This was where Moaning Myrtle had long ago taken up residence. And it was the bathroom in which the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was hidden.

Ginny had avoided this bathroom and this corridor for quite some time after her first year. She had spent more than enough time here, however involuntarily, over the course of that year, and she felt no need to spend any more time anywhere near this door after returning to Hogwarts for her second year.

The truth is, she had been terrified to do so. Even now, the older, wiser, more resolute version of herself could feel her knees trembling just a little bit as she stared at the entrance to what had been a personal house of horrors. In her second year she could not pass this door without crying, and her third year had proven much the same. Still, there had come a point in that third year where she had determined to herself that she would grow up and get over her fears; it was at much the same point, as she recalled, that she had decided she would give up on her childish crush on Harry. By her fourth year she had been able to walk down this corridor without any trouble at all, practically, even though she still had difficulty approaching the door to the bathroom. Fortunately, nobody had taken this as out of the ordinary, as nobody ever went into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Over the summer, she had decided with some definitiveness that this would be the year she completely overcame her old nightmares and horrors, and she would once again confront the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and she would do it on the first day back to Hogwarts. Well, here it was, late in the afternoon on that first day, and she had managed to convince herself to avoid this doorway again, for one reason or another, all day long.

But now she was here.

She knew that she could not open the Chamber; she knew that. When Harry had killed the portion of Tom Riddle's soul that been trying to overtake her own, with it went her ability to speak Parseltongue. But just facing that tiny engraving of a snake again, knowing what lurked behind it… she had been unable to force herself to do it for the last three years. And now that particular evil was out in the world once again. Tom Riddle was again attacking parents and children and defenseless young girls. She knew she had to overcome her fear, her stupid, childish fear. If she couldn't do even that much, then how could she ever hope to be of any help to the Order of the Phoenix?

So here she was, standing stubbornly in front of the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, jaw clenched, chin jutting out defiantly… but now that she was here, her legs did not want to move and her arms did not want to reach forward to push the door open. She had built herself towards this moment in her mind for weeks now; she had never dwelled on it, but she knew this simple confrontation had to take place. And now that she was here… she couldn't do it. She couldn't go in.

The minutes ticked away, and with each one that passed, she grew more and more frustrated with herself, not to mention later and later for Potions. Finally, realizing there was a limit to which she could push even the most benevolent new professor, she tore herself away from the bathroom door and headed for the dungeon. _It's all right,_ she told herself. _I managed to stop in front of the door this time without crying or passing out. That's progress. That's good._ Deep in her heart, she knew angrily that it hadn't been enough.

Her irritation over not being able to force herself to step into the bathroom only increased her overall irritation level, which was already running high. It seemed she had spent most of the day being late, and now that she had skipped out on the first few minutes of Potions (for no reason, as it turned out), she found herself growing more agitated. It had started in the morning, when she had foolishly left the perfume Fleur had given her out on her night table. One of her suite mates, one of those lovely fifth year Gryffindor girls with whom she had never become close exactly because she had spent so much time in the second floor bathroom their first year of school, had squealed in delight when she saw the bottle. Evidently she knew the brand of perfume, and it was just as designer and exclusive as Fleur had claimed. She had insisted on trying it out, but foolishly turned the bottle the wrong way when spraying it and Ginny had received the full blast of fragrance squarely in the face. She had made herself late for first period Charms washing it off, and she was fairly certain she still smelled vaguely of flowers and spring rain even now as she trudged downwards through the castle towards the dungeons.

By the time she entered potions, the class was well underway, and Slughorn was in full swing, booming along pleasantly and pompously. For a moment Ginny hoped she might be able to slink in unnoticed. She hadn't much hope of it, though. Bright red hair, as she had learned many times before, didn't do much for stealth. Sure enough, she had only taken a few steps when:

"Miss Weasley!"

Ginny grimaced, and then slowly turned towards the front of the room. The eyes of each of the fifth-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were upon her (thank goodness her year didn't take potions with the Slytherins!) as well as the eyes of Professor Slughorn, who was clearly trying to look stern but could not high that playful twinkle in his eye.

"Miss Weasley, it is not the best first impression to make, being late on the first day of class, do you think?"

"No, sir," Ginny mumbled. She glanced at the empty seat next to Luna, wondering what she could say to get herself into it as quickly as she could.

"Do you have a good reason for your lateness, Miss Weasley?" She turned back to Professor Slughorn, her mind whirling, cursing herself for not coming into class with a ready-made excuse. She knew better than to enter class unprepared; she must be slipping in her old age. What would Fred and George think?

"Well, Miss Weasley?" asked Slughorn. His joviality seemed to be fading, and Ginny grasped in desperation for the first thing she could think of.

"You see, Professor, it slipped my mind for a moment that Professor Snape was no longer teaching potions."

She could hear the low murmur run through the rest of the class; suddenly, her excuse was going to become interesting. Professor Slughorn raised his eyebrows and coughed haughtily. "Oh-ho! Am I to understand that you would be late for Professor Snape's class?"

"Oh, no, Professor Slughorn," Ginny hastily replied, adding what she figured would be precisely the right amount of wide-eyed sincerity. "It's just I had forgotten to apply my dose of 'Fiorello Fungoid's Spores, Mold, and Fungus Repellant', and I ran up to my dorm to get it. Clearly I had forgotten you had taken Professor Snape's place."

A nervous tittering fluttered through the room. Ginny inconspicuously held her breath, waiting to see what Slughorn's reaction would be.

When she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards for just a moment, she knew she was home free.

"Miss Weasley", he said, trying hard to hide the bemusement in his voice. "It is rude to show such cheek towards a faculty member."

"Yes, Professor," Ginny dutifully replied.

"Still, as it is the first day, I believe we can let this go with but a warning. Have a seat, you clever little thing."

"Yes, Professor. Thank you, Professor."

Ginny hurried over to the seat beside Luna, who was perhaps the only student in the entire room not staring at her with amusement and appreciative nods. "Hi, Luna," whispered Ginny as she slid into her chair. Luna turned to her, seemingly startled she was there.

"Hello, Ginny!" she exclaimed happily. "You're late for class."

"You noticed," Ginny muttered back. "Keep it down, would you? I've tested Slughorn's patience enough for the first day. What are we working on?"

"Befuddlement Draughts, I think," Luna said thoughtfully, peering into her already bubbling cauldron. "I'm not sure, though. It's all a bit confusing."

"Nargles getting to you, Luna?"

Luna shook her. "No. I expect it's just the potion," she replied matter-of-factly.

Ginny grinned. "You're probably right." She found Luna often was, more often than anyone would expect. Pointing her wand beneath her cauldron, Ginny muttered "_Incendio!_" and hurried to catch up with the rest of the class.

Little progress was made on the Befuddlement Draughts. As it turned out Luna was correct, and the fumes rising from the student's cauldrons caused them to mix up directions, skip steps or ingredients, and in some cases lose track of what they were doing altogether, with the Ravenclaws seeming to fare just a bit better than the Gryffindors were. Conditions got so muddled that Professor Slughorn saw fit to end the class a few minutes early, and as soon as he cleared the air in the room with a wave of his wand and a hearty chuckle, Ginny felt as though a fog were being lifted from her brain that she didn't even realize had fallen there. A glance around the room at her classmates shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes told her she was not the only one affected by the vapors emanating from their cauldrons.

"It's not easy for anyone, first time 'round!" Professor Slughorn boomed, grinning from ear to ear. "You'll fare better next class, I'm sure of it. Here now, Kirke, Sloper, watch yourselves! Don't walk into the walls! Creevy, show them out, won't you?"

Ginny waited until the room was nearly empty, and then slid up to the front of the room where Professor Slughorn was busying himself with one of the heavy stone cabinets built into the wall of the dungeon. He had seemed content enough to let her back into class without serious threat of detention, but she wanted to make sure she stood on good footing with the new professor. As Fred and George had always impressed upon her: you never know when having an ally on the faculty will come in handy.

"Professor Slughorn?" she asked. He turned to face her. Clutched in his hands was a cauldron full of what appeared to be boiling water. Her intention forgotten, she looked up at him from the potion, perplexed. "Professor, did you have a cauldron of boiling water in that cabinet?"

Slughorn threw his head back with a hearty laugh, but Ginny could see he was still careful not to spill any of the cauldron's contents. "Water, my dear? Oh, heavens no. This is a little something I prepared earlier for my advanced class. They're in here next, you know."

"The sixth years?"

"Yes, yes. Must get ready." He then lowered a practiced eye to Ginny. "I don't supposed you know what this potion might be, my dear?"

It looked for all the world like water to Ginny. She took a cautious sniff, and then a deeper one, but could smell nothing. "I'm afraid I don't, sir."

"Colorless, odorless, very powerful… anything?" Ginny shook her head. Slughorn laughed again. "I suppose I shouldn't tell you. Wouldn't want you giving it away to any of your sixth year friends…"

"I wouldn't, sir!" Sometimes Ginny amazed herself with how quickly she was able to fall into a disguise of innocence. "I promise not to! What is it?"

"Veritaserum," Slughorn said in a near whisper, probably a bit more conspiratorially than he really had to. "Truth serum. Awfully powerful stuff."

"I've heard of it," said Ginny, nodding. "Isn't it monitored under strict Ministry regulations?"

"You would know that, with your father down at the Ministry of Magic," Slughorn said with a wink. "But this old dog does have a few tricks up his sleeve." Slughorn reached back down into the cabinet and pulled up a second cauldron. "Can you tell me what I have in here, then?"

Ginny peered over the edge of the second cauldron. Inside was a bubbling, muddy substance. "That's Polyjuice Potion," she answered. "That one I know." And so she should, as Hermione and Ron had both told her the full tale of their second year and her first, when they used Polyjuice Potion to try and discover the identity of the Heir of Slytherin. In fact, they had brewed it in the very bathroom she had been unable to enter just an hour before… but she blinked those memories back, not wanting to confront them at the moment.

Fortunately, Slughorn noticed nothing. "Clever girl, clever girl!" he exclaimed. "Every moment I speak to you, you remind me more and more of…" Slughorn's eyes glazed over wistfully. Ginny had seen that look before. It was the look of one lost in the past. She thought it would be best to let him simply have his moment. Perhaps, even, it would be best to simply slip out, unnoticed.

Ginny, though, often did not do what was best.

"Remind you of who, sir? That's not the first time you've mentioned I remind you of someone."

Slughorn smiled again, but it was not the boisterous smile of the jolly professor. It was the smile of one remembering better days, simpler days. "Just a former student," he replied. "A regular old hand at potions, she was. One of the two best I've ever taught, really." Slughorn looked pointedly at Ginny. "And I must say, Miss Weasley, even beyond the hair, the resemblance between you and Lily is really quite striking."

Lily. Lily, Lily, Lily, Lily… the name rang a distant bell in Ginny's mind. Who did she know who was a Lily? She couldn't recall, and felt the answer must be beyond her reach, when suddenly there it was. Involuntarily, Ginny gasped.

"Yes," said Slughron, a melancholy look in his eyes. "It is a small world, isn't it?"

"You mean Harry's mum, don't you?" Ginny asked in a quiet voice, surprised at how taken aback she was by this seemingly meaningless coincidence.

"I do," confirmed Slughorn. "And it is not in appearance alone, this similarity. No, my dear, an old man sees things young eyes can not, and there is a spirit about you, a spirit and a fire not unlike the one I saw in Lily Evans, from the moment I met her until…" he trailed off. Ginny thought she could see a tear forming in his eye, but as soon as she had noticed it, it was gone. "But listen to me prattle on," said Slughorn, his voice returning back to the here and now. "You'd think I'd drank some of that Befuddlement Draught myself. One last potion to test you on, Miss Weasley."

With that, he pulled out from the cabinet behind his desk a golden cauldron, filled with a soft, creamy, pearl-colored liquid, the steam rising up from it in lazy spirals. As soon as he removed it from the cabinet, the most intoxicating scent filled the air. Ginny breathed deeply. As the fumes wafted around and through her, she was certain she could distinctly and simultaneously make out the scents of the fresh red leather of a brand new Quaffle, the cacophony of odors that always seemed to make up her mother's kitchen at The Burrow, and… something else. Something she couldn't quite place… something that smelled… warm… and safe… and seemed to fill her up, almost like music…

"Miss Weasley?" Ginny was startled to find that she had her eyes closed. Quickly opening them, she saw that Slughorn stood before her, a knowing smile on his face.

"What… what is that?" she asked, near breathless.

"Amortentia," replied Slughorn. "The strongest love potion in the world. The aroma of its vapors is different for everyone. I wonder," he said, with a twinkle in his eye "what it smelled of to you?"

Ginny thought. The Quaffle and the kitchen were nice enough, certainly, but that third scent was… was… luxuriant. Rapturous. A whole bunch of other words Ginny would never, ever use.

But she had no idea what it was.

"I'm not sure," Ginny admitted.

"Ah. This happens sometimes," offered Slughorn, back now to being his former, terribly bemused self. "If you do ever figure out what it was, please let me know. I would be fascinated to hear it." At that moment, the bell rang. "Off with you now," said Slughorn, guiding Ginny to the door. "The sixth years will be here momentarily, and you must have class yourself. Go on!"

"Yes, Professor," said Ginny, who had by this point completely forgotten why she had stayed late in class to talk to Slughorn anyway. "See you next lesson." Ginny turned and hurried out the door, headed towards Professor McGonagall and Transfiguration, trying to figure out just what that mysterious third smell had been.

One class period later, she still had not been able to place it, despite racking her brain throughout the entirety of Transfiguration, prompting Professor McGonagall to scold her for not paying attention. After class, Ginny and Luna headed together to the Great Hall for dinner. "Do you think you'll mention it to Harry?" asked Luna after Ginny had told her what Slughorn had said about she and Harry's mother.

Ginny shrugged in response. "I s'pose. I can't see why I wouldn't."

Luna shook her head, and looked as concerned as Luna could ever look. "I'm not sure if I would," she remarked. "It may seem odd to him."

The irony of Luna calling anything else "odd" was not lost on Ginny, and she found it more than a little amusing. "In what way would it seem 'odd'?" she asked her friend as they entered the hall, a smile on her lips.

But Luna only shrugged. "You know, just in the usual way things seem odd. I wonder if they'll be serving fish tonight…" and with that, Luna wandered off in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, leaving Ginny feeling as if Luna was maybe two conversations ahead of her, a not uncommon sensation after an exchange with Luna.

Until Luna had asked her why she had stayed behind in potions, she hadn't even thought of Slughorn's comments regarding she and Lily Potter, actually, so distracted had she been with figuring out what that third aroma in the Amortentia had been. Now that it had returned to mind, she headed over to where Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, huddled together in close conference, as usual. She had every intention of mentioning casually Slughorn's observation to Harry, but as she approached, she realized Hermione did not look happy, and Harry seemed to be annoyed right back.

"I s'pose you think I cheated?" he was saying, clearly agitated.

"Well, it wasn't exactly your own work, was it?" Hermione retorted. Ginny wondered what they were talking about. She had never known Harry to be one to cheat. Ron, certainly, but not Harry.

"He only followed a different set of instructions to ours," Ron was saying. "Could've been a catastrophe, couldn't it? But he took a risk and it paid off." Sighing, he continued. "Slughorn could've handed me that book, but no, I get the one no one's ever written in. Puked on, by the look of page fifty-two, but --"

There was suddenly a sinking feeling in the pit of Ginny's stomach. If she understood what she had just heard… "Hang on," she snapped. Ron and Hermione turned to her, realizing she was there for the first time; Harry, though, sniffed the air once before turning to face her. He could probably smell her stupid perfume… "Did I hear right?" she continued. "You've been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?"

As she spoke, the agitation she was suddenly feeling rose up into her voice and face. She feared for a moment she was overreacting, but Harry seemed to immediately understand exactly what she was concerned about. "It's nothing," he tried to reassure her, speaking softly. "It's not like, you know, Riddle's diary. It's just an old textbook someone's scribbled in."

Ginny was not going to let him off that easily. "But you're doing what it says?"

"I just tried a few of the tips written in the margins, honestly, Ginny, there's nothing funny --"

"Ginny's got a point," Hermione chimed in eagerly. "We ought to check that there's nothing odd about it. I mean, all these funny instructions, who knows?" And with that, she snatched Harry's copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ from his bag.

"Hey!" said Harry indignantly, but Hermione already had her wand out.

"_Specialis revelio!_" she said, tapping the book sharply with her wand.

Nothing happened. Nothing whatsoever.

"Finished?" grumbled Harry. "Or d'you want to wait and see if it does a few back flips?"

"It seems all right," Hermione began, although Ginny could tell that she either didn't trust or didn't want to trust the book. "I mean, it really does seem to be just a textbook."

"Good. Then I'll have it back." Harry snatched the book from off the table, accidentally knocking it onto the floor in the process. As he bent down to pick it up, Ginny sat down next to him, still lost in her own thoughts. Ron had begun needling Hermione about her thwarted attempt at detecting subterfuge in Harry's textbook, and she had predictably begun lecturing him about academic integrity.

Out of the corner of the eye, Ginny could see Harry sitting up straight, peering carefully at the back cover of his textbook. She turned to him suspiciously. "What's there?" she demanded, turning back to him.

"Nothing," he replied, seemingly caught off guard, though he recovered quickly. "Ginny, I understand, I really do, but honest, the book is nothing. It's just an old textbook that somebody wrote their notes in."

"Let me see," Ginny insisted.

"All right, look." Harry pulled out a quill and then flipped open the book. As he scanned it, looking for a relatively blank spot, Ginny glanced at the pages turning past her eyes. She had to admit that it did look unremarkably like a simple textbook with writing in the margins.

"Here," said Harry, stopping at a page between chapters that was still clear. He picked up his quill, and wrote in big, bold letters, "_Hello?_" He turned the book to Ginny. She watched. The word just sat there. It didn't sink into the page, and no invisible voice inside the book wrote back. It was just graffiti in a textbook now.

"All right," she said begrudgingly. "But I still don't like it."

"Ginny," Harry began earnestly, "if I thought this book was anything more than just a textbook with old notes scribbled in it, I'd already be up in Dumbledore's office with it."

"Would you?" asked Ginny, not sure whether or not to believe him.

"'Course he would," interjected Ron from across the table with a mouth full of sweet potatoes. "We didn't go to all the trouble to get you out of the Chamber of Secrets just to go and let the whole thing happen again, did we?"

For a brief instant, Ginny flashed back again to a few hours earlier, the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom standing before her, tall and impenetrable, but the vision faded with the sound of Hermione's horrified voice.

"Ronald! Tact, please!"

"What did I say? Stop hitting me! What is that, your new hobby this year?"

"Perhaps it should be, if you keep putting your big foot into your big mouth."

"You're one to talk about big mouths I SAID DON'T HIT ME!"

Ginny turned away from the bickering pair across the table and looked to Harry. "You wouldn't let… I mean, that couldn't happen again, could it?"

"Of course not," Harry said softly. "S'not like there's pieces of Voldemort just lying around everywhere, are there?"

"You mean Tom Riddle," Ginny corrected.

"One and the same," said Harry. They both smiled. Ginny knew, for just a heartbeat, that they were both thinking the same thing: Riddle's diary was gone, but the man himself was still out there, just as dangerous. For an instant, Ginny wondered who among them, who at this table, who in their lives, would make it through to the end.

For one brief second, she found herself hoping with all of her might that Harry would be one of the ones to make it through all of this alive. In the next second, she realized that this wish did not come from the voice in the back of her head. It was entirely hers.

"Ginny! Over here!" Ginny's head snapped up. The dinnertime cacophony of the Great Hall roared back into her ears, though she hadn't even realized it had gone away. Dean was standing at his seat, waving her over. Seamus appeared to be spitting into Dean's drink while he was distracted. She looked back at Harry. He seemed to be blinking quite a bit, as if something unexpected had just flown into his eye.

"I'd better go," she said.

"Right," Harry replied with a nod. "Later, then?"

"Later, Harry." And with that, Ginny got up and walked over to sit with her boyfriend, realizing as she did so that the first day of school had been a fairly strange day.


	9. Chapter 8: Trialing

It was the morning of the Gryffindor Quidditch trials, two weeks since the start of school, and in this short time Ginny had realized that they weren't just making it up: fifth year was significantly harder than fourth year had been. If she heard the word O.W.L. one more time… She had spent much of her time when not in class studying, and whatever free time she had since then she had dedicated to spending with Dean, trying as hard as she could to make their relationship work. She had been so busy she had barely been able to give the Amortentia a second thought, and she had managed to put off going back to the second floor bathroom without feeling too badly about it. She was thrilled that the trials were finally here, to put it mildly. She found nothing to be more soothing or relaxing than climbing onto a broom, kicking off, and tossing around the Quaffle, be it gameday or just a game of catch.

It was safe to say that Demelza did not exactly agree with her. Ginny came down to the common room the morning of the trials to find the younger girl pale and staring into the empty fireplace, clutching her broom. Ginny and Dean managed to drag her down to breakfast, where they sat with Seamus, all four of them headed to the pitch for tryouts, Demelza refusing to eat anything.

"This is a mistake," she kept repeating. "This is a mistake. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Nonsense," tutted Ginny. "You're an excellent flier. Now eat some porridge." Ginny plopped a bowl of porridge in front of her friend, along with the other six or seven items of food she had deposited there. Demelza had done little but nibble on a corner of dry toast.

Demelza shook her head. "No… no, I don't think so, Ginny. I'm going back up to the dormitories."

"Don't be silly…" Dean began, than looked questioningly at Ginny.

"Demelza," Ginny muttered helpfully to him. Her boyfriend was not great with names.

"… Demelza!" Dean continued. "May as well go out there. You'll regret it if you don't even try."

"Hear, hear," chimed in Seamus, piling some more bacon onto his plate.

"Absolutely," agreed Ginny, digging into her third helping of eggs. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Gin, where do you put it all?" Dean marveled at his girlfriend as she plowed through a typically hearty breakfast.

"I'm a Weasley, Dean," she explained. "We have an extra secret compartment for it."

"The worst that could happen…" Demelza repeated. "Let's see… I could not make the team."

"Sure, that's a risk."

"I could fall headfirst off of my broomstick onto the pitch."

"I really doubt…"

"I could lose control and fly right into the stands, or into a professor. I could accidentally cut off the legs of a group of first-year tryouts. I could get hit in the face with a Bludger and end up hiding myself behind my sweater all year like that Marietta Edgecombe girl, I could…"

Apparently she had given this some thought. As Demelza rattled off all of the ways this day could be a horrific disaster, Ginny's attention wandered. Chewing idly on a piece of toast, her gaze drifted several yards down the table, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were talking quietly and conspiratorially, their usual method of conversation. Ron and Harry had received packages by owl post, and it appeared to be their new copies of Advanced Potion Making. iGood,i/ thought Ginny. iNow he can get rid of that old talking copy he's been following instruction from.i/ Although Harry had demonstrated his book's innocence, she was still wary of any faceless anything giving mysterious advice through a book. She was just about to turn away when she saw Harry tap each book with his wand, muttering a spell and causing the covers to fall off, and then switching them so his old copy had the new cover and the new copy had the old tattered cover. "He's going to keep it," muttered Ginny, shaking her head. And while Ginny was certainly annoyed by this, she glanced at Hermione and saw that her friend looked as though she may burst.

"Or I could just plow right into Harry Potter!"

"You could what?" said Ginny, whirling around.

"Knock him right out," added Demelza. "The Boy Who Lived in the hospital wing, and the Wizarding World will come to an end, and it will be entirely my fault."

"Maybe you should do that anyway," offered Seamus. "It's been two weeks of school and Harry hasn't been in the hospital wing yet. He's 'bout due." Dean and Seamus chuckled, and Demelza offered a weak smile.

"Very funny, you two," Ginny half scolded. "Demelza, sit down!" The next several minutes were spent convincing Demelza to come out to the pitch with them; fortunately enough, now that he had finished his bacon, Seamus intervened, and five minutes later he had Demelza laughing, however meekly, and willing to at least head on down to the pitch. As they all stood, Ginny noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione leaving the Great Hall… and Lavender Brown intercepting Ron to give him a big goofy smile which, sadly, her big goofy brother then returned. "That brainless git," Ginny said to herself as Hermione drew herself up and swept out of the room coldly in front of an awkwardly strutting Ron. Harry looked as though he wanted to disappear into the ground.

"Listen, Gin." Dean sidled up to her, watching Seamus escort Demelza away from the table. "I think it's great that you talked your friend into trying out. But you know she's trying out for Chaser, right?"

"That's right," Ginny nodded.

"Right, well, don't you see the problem there?"

Ginny thought about it. She did not see the problem. "Not really, no… am I supposed to?"

"We're all trying out for Chaser," Dean explained. "You, Katie Bell, me and Seamus, this Desdemona girl…"

"Demelza."

"Right, sorry. Strange name. Anyway, bringing her down just adds to the competition, you know?"

"Why, Dean," teased Ginny. "You're not scared of a few little girls, are you?"

"No, I guess not, but…" began Dean, but Ginny cut him off with a quick kiss.

"Just go out and do your best, sweetie," she said, "and trust that talent will win out in the end."

"Right. Right!" Dean nodded. "No reason to worry! Come on, then!" He seemed suddenly cheered up. iFunny how that works_i/,_ Ginny thought. She did not give voice to the actual thought rattling around in her head, of course: she had seen them both play, and she was of the opinion that Demelza was a far more talented Chaser than Dean. But she wanted to keep her boyfriend, so she wasn't going to say that.

It was a drizzly, cool day, but the pitch was as crowded as Ginny had ever seen it. "There must be close to a hundred people here, Ginny," Demelza said, sounding quietly desperate again.

"Don't panic," Ginny ordered. "Now, look, see those first years? They've just had their initial flying lesson. And that group over there, those are Ravenclaws. What are they even doing here?" Demelza nodded, and started breathing a little more evenly. "Besides," Ginny said, looking Demelza in the eye. "You're good. All right?"

Demelza smiled weakly, and nodded. "All right, Ginny," she said. "Thanks."

Ginny waved her off, and turned to the center of the pitch where Harry stood. "May I have your attention everyone?" he was saying. All the potential tryouts quieted down and turned their attention to Harry, something that seemed to disconcert him wildly. Ginny smiled. It still amazed her how he could fight off horrible acts of Dark Magic year after year, but be thrown off-kilter by what seemed to be the simplest things.

"… so if you'd all just divide into groups of ten," he was finishing, "we'll take it one group at a time for a quick fly around the pitch. Right? Right. Okay, well… group up, then."

The first group took off, and it was just as Ginny had predicted: it was made up of ten first-years, none of whom could fly, and all of whom crashed and burned within ten seconds. "See?" she whispered to Demelza, who simply smiled and nodded, seemingly growing more confident by the second.

The second group was made up of a group of girls, including some of her dormmates, who Ginny knew had practically no interest in watching Quidditch, let alone in playing it. "Why are they even here?" she wondered aloud.

"Why do you think?" Katie replied, pointing at Harry.

"Look at that," chimed in Dean. "The price of fame."

"But he's always been famous," Ginny said.

"Yeah, but now he's not just famous for bein' crazy," countered Seamus.

"He was never crazy," shot back Ginny, looking around for support. Ron was too distracted with his own nerves to know what was going on, eyeing what appeared to be his only direct competition for the Keeper position, the big McLaggen bloke from the Slug Club. Fortunately, Katie was not so distracted.

"I always believed Harry," she said stubbornly. "That Umbridge woman was a cow. How anyone could believe her over him is beyond me."

"Well, I believe him now!" Seamus protested.

"Sure," agreed Dean. "And now he's a hero and everything who has fought You-Know-Who and lived, and he was right when the Ministry was wrong…"

"We're just sayin' Harry's likely got his pick of the girls, if he wants it," said Seamus, then added wistfully, "Lucky bloke."

Ginny peered more closely at group number two, just now finishing up a trial which seemed to consist of little more than giggling and fawning all over Harry, much like the girls she had seen surrounding him on the train and the girls she had seen at Fred and George's shop talking about love potions. Sure enough, much to Ginny's great annoyance, the group was being led by Romilda Vane. As Harry dispersed them and sent them on their way, Ginny realized that she had been grinding her teeth together painfully. Her jaw loosened up as she watched the group of silly girls leave the pitch.

The rest of the groups progressed quickly along, and almost two thirds of those trying out were eliminated by the time the basic flight lesson was done, many of whom had intended to try out to be Chasers but who could barely remain on a broomstick upright, let alone do it while catching, carrying, and throwing the Quaffle. After Harry shouted all the grumbling would-be competitors off the field, he gathered the five final Chaser candidates together for instruction: Ginny, Katie, Demelza, Dean, and Seamus.

Harry tossed a Quaffle to Katie. "This is a training Quaffle," he began. "Madame Hooch modified it for me. It has a sort of a Bludger's charm placed on it. After you score with it or if it touches the ground, it will fly around the pitch until someone catches it again. It won't run from you like a Snitch or divebomb you like a Bludger, but it will test your speed and handling skills to snag it from midair. Okay? Katie, Ginny, and Demelza against Dean and Seamus. I want to see goals and I want to see teamwork. Any questions?" He looked around the group. "Oh, and just to make it interesting, there will be an actual Bludger up there as well. So look out for that." Seamus and Dean looked at each other uneasily. Ginny grinned, and Harry smiled back.

"All right," Harry said to the final five. "Let's see what you've all got." With that, he took off on his broom, and the Chasers followed, climbing up into the grey and rain.

The crowd below was starting to make some noise as the official Chaser tryouts got under way. Katie made her way slowly down the pitch, Quaffle in hand, keeping an eye on the ominously hovering Bludger, while Dean and Seamus circled and plotted an intercept course. Ginny slid over next to Demelza. "Remember, Chasers have to work as a unit," she told her. "Katie will need our help." Demelza nodded determinedly. Ginny took off, flying below Katie just as Dean and Seamus both dove in towards the senior member of Gryffindor Quidditch. iSloppyi/, thought Ginny. iThey're not working as a team.i/

Katie didn't even have to look down. She and Ginny had played and trained together for half the year before; she knew simply to drop the Quaffle straight below her and allow Ginny to zip in and snag it. The two boys tried to correct course to intercept the redhead, but she was too quick and was able to fire the red leather ball through the goal hoop as a roar rose up from the crowd.

Just as Harry had said, the instant the Quaffle passed through the goal it turned on a dime and zipped past them straight up the pitch. Demelza was furthest upfield and turned faster than any of the other fliers; she reached the Quaffle with relative ease, tapped it with one hand, juggled it in mid-air, but then recovered, hugging the ball to her chest and zipping towards the goal. Ginny gasped as the Bludger rocketed at Demelza from above, but as though she had eyes in the back of her head, the girl spun into a barrel roll, and the black metal ball shot harmlessly past her. The maneuver threw her off-course, however, and Dean and Seamus were able to surround her. She panicked as they closed in, heaving the ball as hard as she could in the air towards no-man's land. It seemed certain to fall all the way to the ground until Ginny, diving out of nowhere, one-handed it out of the sky from upside down on her broomstick to the thunderous appreciation of the largish crowd that had by now gathered to watch. She glided on towards the goal hoops, ducking the Bludger as it whipped past her hair, and one-armed the ball through for the score.

The Quaffle again shot around the goal posts and headed upfield, but this time Ginny was ready for it and chasing it. Dean caught the Quaffle with two hands and neatly swerved out of Katie's way, but rather than pass it upfield to Seamus hovering next to the goal posts he turned to take it up himself, switching the ball to his right hand to avoid Demelza incoming on his left, but leaving himself wide open for Ginny to come barreling up from below him on his right to snatch the unprotected sphere of red leather from his outstretched arm. Before Dean could react, Ginny had spun around on her broomstick and sent the Quaffle soaring downfield, dropping it perfectly into Katie's outstretched hands as she raced down an open field towards the goal for the easy score. The crowd below roared again. To add insult to injury, while Dean's head was turned watching his bad fortune play out downfield, the Bludger swung in and clipped his leg. Dean howled in pain, Ginny grimaced and the crowd groaned; that one was going to leave a mark.

The girls fell into a productive rhythm and Ginny submerged herself in the focus of the game. Grab, dodge, throw; grab, dodge, throw; grab, dodge, throw… she had lost complete track of the mock score, something she'd never do in a real game, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Startled, she turned away from the pitch where Dean had just snuck a shot past Katie, to find Harry hovering behind her. He gestured for her to follow him, and she did, indicating to Katie and Demelza that she was going to ground.

As she and Harry hit the earth, he turned to her. "Good job, Gin," he said. "That'll be enough. You can watch the rest from the stands."

Ginny paled as Harry turned to rise back into the air. "Wait, Harry!" she cried. He turned to her, a puzzled expression on his face. "I can do better!" she said, panic rising in her chest. "You have to give me another chance! I'm sorry, I promise you, I can do this, I can!"

Harry looked mystified. "Ginny, what are you talking about?" he asked with amazement. "You're the best one up there by miles. You've scored seventeen goals. Nobody else has more than four. If I keep you up there any longer I'll look like I don't know what I'm doing. Besides, the three of you were cutting Dean and Seamus apart. I have to give them a fair shake."

"Wait," Ginny said, the realization dawning on her. "Does this mean…"

Harry smiled. "You've made the team," he said. "No contest. Great job, Gin. Really." And with that, he zipped back up into the air.

In a daze, only vaguely aware of the big stupid grin on her face, Ginny wandered back towards the stands. As she passed Ron, he gave her a green-faced grin and a thumbs-up, and as she approached the assembled crowd she received a rousing hand for her performance, Hermione sitting in the first row smiling and clapping harder than anybody. Blushing fiercely and grinning just as hard, she found Colin and Dennis Creevy, sitting with Natalie MacDonald, Neville, and Luna. That small group gave her a personal standing ovation (except for Luna, who seemed intent on catching something small, fast, and invisible that was flying around Neville's head), and Ginny sat down to watch the rest of the tryouts.

Things were not going so well for the boys. Katie and Demelza had formed a natural partnership, the older and stronger girl teamed up with the younger, faster one. It didn't help that Dean and Seamus seemed just as intent on arguing with each other as they were on attempting flashy and high-risk one-man dashes to the goal which failed as often as they succeeded. Neville leaned over to Ginny, trying to ignore Luna peering thoughtfully into his ear. "If things keeps up like this, Harry's going to have to put Katie and Demelza on the team, isn't he?" he asked.

Ginny nodded. "Katie belongs on the team," she said. "And Demelza's earning her spot as we speak."

"She certainly is," piped up Natalie, who then stood up and shouted, "GO GET 'EM DEMELZA!" at the top of her tiny lungs.

"Oh," said Luna, disappointedly sitting back from Neville. "You frightened them away." She then looked to the pitch and asked, "Have the tryouts started? Lovely! Ginny, Katie, and Demelza will win, I think."

"You should have told Harry that a week ago," offered Ginny. "Would've saved him some trouble."

"See?" Luna said to nobody in particular, pointing at Ginny. "That's one."

Finally, the moment of truth came. Harry brought the rest of the competitors down to earth, and even from a distance it was easy to see what the results were; Demelza and Katie jumped into the air and hugged each other, while Dean and Seamus trudged off of the field, heads hanging. "I'd better go down there," said Ginny to her friends, and she hurried down the stands to the field just in time to catch Dean and Seamus, headed to the locker room.

"Dean!" she called out, running up to him. "I'm sorry Dean, Seamus." Seamus smiled weakly and shrugged, then continued on his way. Dean, on the other hand, didn't look at her. "Don't worry about it," he said. "No big deal."

"You're sure you're all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he answered, barely glancing at her. "Just got a bit of a headache. I think I'm going to go upstairs."

"Oh. All right." Ginny watched as Dean walked on past her, after Seamus and into the locker room. She stood for a moment, the first twitches of annoyance flickering at her mood, but she tried to tell herself that he must be upset and she should just let him cool off. She turned and hurried back out to the pitch.

The Beater tryout moved fairly quickly, with Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes, two third years, winning the job adequately if not handily. The Chasers were then back up in the air, ready to test the Keepers. None of the first five applicants were able to save any of Ginny's shots-on-goal; for that matter, none of them were able to save more than two apiece.

"We're done if these are the best Keepers Gryffindor has to offer," Katie groused to Ginny and Demelza as they floated high in the air over the pitch.

"We'll see," replied Ginny. "Here come McLaggen." She and the other Chasers watched the seventh year boy climb to his position in front of the goal posts; even this lazy ascension came across as arrogant. "He's in your year, Katie. What can you tell us about him?"

"Arse," Katie said, summing it up. "But he's good." She looked pointedly at Ginny. "Let's hope your brother is up for it, because I don't think I could take a whole season with Cormac McLaggen as a teammate."

The Chasers lined up for their shots, and as it turned out McLaggen was indeed very good. He blocked the first four attempts he faced with ease, including two of Ginny's. While this set her fuming, she couldn't help but feel some reluctant respect for the boy's ability. As Katie lined up to take the fifth shot on goal, Ginny couldn't see any scenario in which McLaggen would not end up as the new Gryffindor Keeper. She glanced down towards Ron, but even from this height it looked as though he would begin vomiting slugs at any moment.

Katie raced towards goal, cut left, cut right, and then quick-launched a shot across her body to McLaggen's right… and he inexplicably broke left, allowing the Quaffle to get through with ease. He descended back to earth, red-faced and fuming, with all of the pitch jeering him good-naturedly; he, however, did not seem to be in on the joke.

"That was odd," said Katie, gliding back to Ginny and Demelza. "He's an absolute pig, but he doesn't seem the type to make that sort of mistake."

"What does it mean?" asked Demelza.

"It means that if Ron makes all of his saves, he's in," Ginny answered.

She looked down below to see her brother mounting his broomstick. As he did, she heard a voice ring out from the stands: "GOOD LUCK!"

A tittering laugh rippled through the crowd. "Who was that?" asked Demelza.

Ginny shuddered involuntarily. "I believe," she said begrudgingly, "that was Lavender Brown."

"Does she like your brother?" Katie asked, eyes wide in surprise. "Wow! Hermione must be mad!"

"Actually, Katie, Hermione and my brother aren't actually dating," Ginny corrected. Then she took a pause, and added, "But yes, she's most likely furious."

By this point, Ron had flown himself up to the goal posts shakily, still looking a bit green around the gills. He blocked Demelza's first shot, a tricky little backspin lob, by the skin of his teeth, and then caught Katie's more straightforward rocket with his face as much as with his hands. Ginny, still fuming that she had been blocked twice by McLaggen, came in hard on her brother, trying to deke him up and then flipping upside down and shooting for the lower hoop, but he was not fooled and deflected her attempt with his fingertips. Ginny was both furious and impressed that Ron had managed to block one of her best moves.

After managing to stop the first three shots taken against him, Ron handled the last two from Demelza and Katie with relative ease, putting him at five for five and handing him the Keeper job, no contest. He raised his arms jubilantly and lowered himself to the earth while the gathered crowd engaged in a rousing chorus of "Weasley is our King".

"Good job, Ron," Ginny said, hugging her brother as the whole team gathered around to congratulate one another.

"No thanks to you," Ron said with a grin. "What was that upside down nonsense? You trying to keep me off the team?"

"You didn't think I was going to make it easy for you, did you?" his little sister grinned back. "That's never been in my job description."

"What's up with McLaggen?" Katie asked, looking a few yards away where Harry was being set upon by the rejected Keeper. The rest of the team quickly moved to back Harry up, with Ginny, Ron, and Katie in the lead.

"No," Harry was saying. "You've had your go. You saved four. Ron saved five. Ron's Keeper, he won it fair and square. Get out of my way."

McLaggen looked for a moment as though he might punch Harry. Ginny reached for her wand, but as she did apparently the larger boy thought better of it, as the Gryffindor Quidditch team (of which he was not a part) was standing behind Harry, and Ron, Katie, and Ginny clearly had his back.

Beaten but not happy about it, McLaggen turned and stormed off, and Harry turned the other way to face the team. "Well done," he began happily. "You flew really well -"

"You did brilliantly, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione this time, running across the field and interrupting Harry to give Ron a quick hug. Katie nudged Ginny, and pointed across the field to where a downtrodden Lavender was walking off the pitch arm in arm with Parvati.

Harry finally got the team's attention, and first practice was set for the following week. After another round of whooping, the newly installed members of Gryffindor Quidditch agreed to go freshen up and then reconvene in the Great Hall for a celebratory late lunch/early dinner. As the team walked off together, laughing and singing, Ginny noticed Ron and Hermione walking off together towards the grounds, and Harry turning to catch up. "Harry," she called, and he looked back to her. "Want to join us?" she asked. "Won't be the same without the Captain."

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry said apologetically. "We want to go down and see Hagrid. Next time. Say… I'm sorry about Dean. If we could have had a fourth Chaser, it would have been him."

"That's nice of you, Harry," Ginny said, smiling. "He'll be all right, though. He and Seamus just went inside before to lick their wounds. I'll head in and cheer him up."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Oh," he said uncomfortably, "Er… sure. You should do that." It took her a moment to realize what he was thinking, but when she did, she laughed.

"Not like that, Harry!" she cried, shoving Harry playfully. "Just what kind of girl do you think I am?"

"Sorry," Harry said, blushing. "Sorry. I didn't… I mean. Sorry."

"Right," Ginny replied, still smiling. "Don't worry about it. See you later. And tell Hagrid I said 'Hi'." She walked off, a smile still on her face, and a pleasantly warm sensation lingering in her hand where she had shoved Harry.

Although dinner with her new teammates became a riotous good time, Ginny occasionally took a glance around the Gryffindor table and around the Hall, but there was still no sign of Dean. When the party eventually moved up to the common room, Ginny was surprised to find Seamus there, playing a game of chess with Neville.

"Seamus," she said, approaching him, "have you seen Dean?"

"Ah, up in the dorm, I think," Seamus replied, focusing on where best to instruct his bishop. "Sulkin' around, most likely. Congrats on making the team, Gin. Forgot to say it before." Ginny thanked him and rejoined the team. She did not like the direction this was moving in.

Finally, as the end of dinner rolled around, Dean descended from the dormitories. "Congratulations, everyone," he said, crossing over to the team. "Better luck next year for me, eh?" Turning to Seamus, he said, "Want to go grab some dinner, mate?"

"Busy," muttered Seamus, trying to figure out where his king could hide to avoid Neville's knight.

"Neville?" Dean asked, but Neville shook his head, glancing quickly in Ginny's direction. Dean turned towards her as well.

"Gin?" he asked. "You want to go get some food?"

Ginny was speechless for a moment. She almost couldn't figure out if she had just cause to be offended, but either way she most certainly was. "Are you perhaps going to congratulate me on making the team?" she asked coldly.

"I just did," Dean stiffly replied.

"You congratulated the team, but you didn't quite congratulate me, did you?" she looked around at the team for confirmation, but they were all suddenly very interested in just about anything else.

"All right, I'm sorry," Dean replied. "Congratulations. I'm starving. I'm going downstairs." With that, he turned and headed out the portrait hole. Ginny blinked once, blinked twice, and then jumped to her feet, hurrying after him.

Out in the corridor, she caught up to him. "That's it?" she demanded. "That's all you have to say? You've been off sulking all day."

"Look," Dean said, gritting his teeth. "I apologize. I'm sorry. I'll get over it by tomorrow, I will. I'm just annoyed right now."

"Oh, YOU'RE annoyed?" she shot back.

"Yeah, a bit," he replied, his own voice raising up itself. "That friend you brought down, the one who made the team…"

"Demelza? What about her?"

"Well, if you didn't bring her down, I probably would have made the team."

"Oh, so now it's MY fault you didn't make the team? Just fly better next time!"

"I'm better than Seamus, which when you consider I grew up Muggle, is a pretty damn sight respectable, you know?"

"Harry grew up Muggle, too," Ginny coolly countered, "and he's better than both of you."

"Right. Harry." Dean rolled his eyes. "Got it. I just thought we'd be on the team together, that's all. I thought that would be nice."

To that, Ginny had no response. She was still angry… but he was right, she supposed. It WOULD have been nice.

"Right. Well." Dean offered, but at the moment there seemed to be nothing more to say. "I'll be over it tomorrow." And then he was gone.

Ginny stood by herself in the corridor, still fuming, her earlier happiness and euphoria over the events of the day draining away. Truth told, beneath her annoyance, she was starting to feel some pangs of guilt. She had spent the day laughing and celebrating, completely oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was so upset.

"It's not like I knew where he was to go comfort him or anything," she muttered to herself. "And it's not my fault Demelza is better than him." Still, she could not fight down those feelings of guilt completely, which in turn annoyed her even more.

She returned to the common room to find that the team had dispersed, the row between Dean and effectively dousing the celebratory atmosphere. Demelza waved her over from in front of the fire, and Ginny waved back, but instead retreated to the back of the room to sit by a window, alone with her thoughts. She had been sitting for just a few minutes when she felt something nibbling on her ankle. Bending over, she picked up Arnold, snuffling around at her feet.

"You find your way out again?" she asked. Her pet Pygmy Puff, she had found, had a knack for breaking out of his locked cage. Happy for the loyal company and trying to ignore the fact that Arnold reminded her of Dean, Ginny stared out the window, absent-mindedly tickling Arnold's chin and letting him run up and down her arm.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, but without warning she came down with the overwhelming sense that she was being watched. Turning back to the room, she saw that at some point Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned, and they were sitting together in silence, her pig-headed brother staring at Lavender Brown, and… Harry staring at her. She waved at him with a half smile, and then returned her attention to Arnold. Eventually, the sounds of an argument carried across the room to her. Glancing over to them, she saw Ron get out of his chair and stomp his way up to the dormitory as Demelza crossed over to Harry, handing him a small slip of paper. iWhat on Earth could Ron be so upset about?i/ Ginny wondered. iHe made the team.i/

Harry and Hermione crossed the room towards her. "What's Ron's problem?" she asked.

"Slughorn's party," grumbled Harry. "Does he honestly think we want to go?"

"Oh, you were invited, too?" Ginny asked. "He caught me this morning. Are you going?"

"Can't," said Harry, holding up the slip of paper Demelza had given him. "Detention with Snape. First of the year. Really looking forward to it."

"I'll bet," Ginny smiled. "How about you, Hermione?"

"I wasn't going to, in order to spare Ron's feelings, but seems to be no point to that anymore, is there?" Hermione huffed. "I'll go if you go, Ginny."

"I've got nothing better to do," Ginny shrugged.

"Well, you two have fun," said Harry. "Come to think of it, I might actually prefer Snape's detention to another meeting of the Slug Club."

"Really?" Ginny asked.

"Probably not," he admitted, and headed off to the dungeons.

"My brother's a charmer, isn't he?" remarked Ginny. Hermione just shook her head.

"There are no words for him," she said. "I don't know why I even bother. If he knew what I did for him today…" but then she abruptly stopped.

"What did you do for him today?" Ginny asked. But Hermione just shook her head. Ginny allowed her gaze to wander across the Common Room, where Cormac McLaggen was trying to get into the boy's dormitory but kept walking into the wall next to the door, until Neville and Colin Creevy jumped up and guided him through. "That's odd," Ginny mused. "He looks almost…" with a gasp, she turned to Hermione. "You didn't!" she exclaimed.

"Didn't what?" came Hermione's evasive reply.

"You didn't Confund MacLaggen, did you?" Ginny asked. When Hermione's only response was to look away guiltily, Ginny gasped. "You did!"

"All right, so what?" Hermione hissed. "You wanted that lout on the team? Besides, you should have heard the things he was saying about you and Ron."

"What was he saying?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"Some of it I simply will not repeat," Hermione sniffed. "As for the rest of it… well, he was implying that neither of you were very good at the game, and the only reason you made the team is because you were friends with Harry."

"Is that all?" Ginny asked, disappointed. "What a shame. If a bloke is going to be that unlikable, you'd at least hope he could be creative about it."

Hermione cast a wary eye on Ginny. "You're not going to tell Ron, are you?"

Ginny shrugged. "Probably not," she replied. "Though he'd probably take it for a bit of laugh."

"He will do nothing of the sort," shot back the older girl. "It will destroy his confidence all over again, and then the Quidditch team would be in trouble, wouldn't it?"

"All right, Hermione…" soothed Ginny, but Hermione was running away with it now.

"And if you do tell him," she added, "then I will tell him I saw you and Dean snogging as if your lives depended on it last night in the Common Room after he had gone up to bed."

Ginny blushed. It hadn't been quite so scandalous, actually. Dean had simply caught her unawares right before Hermione walked through the portrait hole from the library. Still, she'd rather not have that particular chat with Ron. "You don't have to threaten me," she mumbled. "I said I wouldn't tell him."

"Don't tell Dean, either," Hermione added.

Ginny snorted. "Actually, I don't think Dean and I are speaking at the moment."

Hermione whirled to look at her, surprised. "Why not? What happened?" asked the elder girl, leaning in.

"He's a sore loser, too," Ginny griped while watching Arnold scramble up her arm to perch on her shoulder. "Just like Michael Corner. I swear, I think I should only date boys who are better Quidditch players than I."

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she realized what she had said. With a slight groan she glanced at Hermione, whose grin was all the evidence needed to prove she had caught it, too.

"Don't you start, Hermione," Ginny warned. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh?" teased Hermione. "Then how did you mean it?"

"Just drop it," Ginny pleaded. "I didn't mean it any way. I mean, it was just… it was…"

"A Freudian Slip"?

"A what?"

"Muggle expression. Never mind. Consider it dropped." Hermione grew silent, but the smile stayed on her face. Ginny gritted her teeth.

"Say, Hermione," she began. "Notice anything funny about Lavender Brown today?"

Hermione's smile quickly disappeared. "I don't know what you are talking about, Ginny," she said stiffly.

"She seemed awfully friendly towards Ron," Ginny continued casually. "You heard her cheering at the trials?"

"I may have," Hermione said through her teeth.

"Wow. Say," Ginny went on as though the idea had just now occurred to her. "You think… she couldn't possibly… she doesn't FANCY him, do you think?"

Hermione spun around to face Ginny. "No," she said firmly. "I don't think. And even if she did, I wouldn't care."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "All right, Hermione," she said as she clambered to her feet. "I think I'm going to bed."

Hermione looked confused. "What about Slughorn's party?" she asked.

"I've lost the stomach for it, and there's no use just hanging around here," Ginny replied. "I've been to Egypt, Hermione, so I already know what denial looks like."

With that, Ginny headed towards the door to the girls dormitory. She was almost certain she heard Hermione mutter something as she left that involved the words "kettle", "cauldron," and "black", but she couldn't be sure.

iOh, no, you heard her correctly,i/" said the voice in her head. IAnd she IS right, sweetie.i/"

Stupid voice.


	10. Chapter 9: Acid Pops

It was the same general nightmare she had been having, on and off, for the better part of four years: she found herself lying again in the Chamber of Secrets, trying frantically to erase all that she had written in Tom Riddle's diary, his cold, handsome laughter echoing off of the high ceilings, his clouded features swirling around her, staying just out of focus and view. "_He's not coming, foolish girl!_" Riddle shrieked. "_Not this time! You are alone! You are unloved! You are trapped and will not be saved! I will return, and I will kill them all, and it will be all your fault!_" She could hear the basilisk slithering across the floor towards her although she could not see it, she felt its hissing breath against her neck as she erased, the words popping back into existence as soon as she removed them… yes, the nightmare hadn't changed much over the years.

Except this time, there was one difference. This time as she frantically erased and Riddle laughed and the basilisk drew near and her panic grew, she happened to look up. And there, just yards away, was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, sitting still and watching her.

"Fawkes!" her dream-self pleaded. "Help me! Please! I have to know! Help me!"

Fawkes made no move or sound. Ginny was about to cry out to him again when she noticed a single tear that had formed in his eye. Entranced, she watched as the tear balled up, slowly rolled down his long golden beak, reached the tip… and then dropped to the floor. The instant the teardop splashed against the cold ground of the Chamber of Secrets, Fawkes burst into flames, consumed, a raging inferno that quickly spread around her, threatening to burn the Chamber and all within it to ash. And yet, stubbornly, the diary in front of her remained untouched…

Ginny woke with a start. She was tangled in her sheets and dripping in sweat, as she usually was after a nightmare. She sat in the stillness of the fifth-year Gryffindor girl's dormitory, her breath raspy and drawn behind her canopy. Eventually her heart slowed down and resumed its normal pace; listening, she heard no indication that any of her roommates had woken, thankfully. She had once made the mistake of telling them in her second year what her then-nightly nightmares were about. They hadn't spoken to her for weeks afterwards, until the dreams had somewhat subsided.

Actually, come to think of it, she hadn't particularly missed their conversation.

The details of the nightmare were fading quickly, as they often did, but the one new feature stayed with her longer then the others, puzzling her: the image of Fawkes, watching her and crying a single tear, as she demanded the bird impart upon her some knowledge.

_Fawkes_, she thought to herself. _That's new_.

She was wide-awake now. Sleep was not going to be happening now; at least, not anytime soon. She silently opened her bed's canopy and glanced at the ancient clock on the wall. Half-past three in the morning. Quietly stepping into her slippers and pulling on her dressing robe, she headed for the door. She needed to clear her head.

She made her way through the common room and out the portrait hole, into the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. She fleetingly wished for an invisibility cloak, but pushed the thought aside. She insulted herself if she thought for even a moment she couldn't go wherever she wanted in the halls of the castle, whenever she wanted.

After all, she had managed well enough when under Riddle's control.

She shuddered and pushed that thought out of her head. No ruminating on that, thank-you-very-much. She instead thought about what a big day she had planned, and what a bad idea it would be to not be well rested for it. She pushed that thought aside as well. Sleep, she knew from experience, was not currently an option. She padded down the halls, into the darkness, no particular destination in mind.

Later that day she would be going out on a date, her first proper date with Dean, or at least as proper a date as one could have while a student at Hogwarts. It was the day of the first Hogsmeade trip, and Dean had insisted on planning the day's activities; she had felt somewhat obligated to allow it. Dean had, after all, kept good on his word. The day after the Quidditch trials he was all smiles and politeness, and he had not let that up over the rest of September and beyond. It was now the middle of October and Ginny had to admit that if one wanted to draw up a diagram of what the model boyfriend was, Dean had been it for the past month.

Somewhat amazingly to herself, however, she had found that while it was pleasant to be fawned over by her boyfriend for a few days, there were times now when she was ready to strangle him. But how could she possibly tell him to stop doing things like standing whenever she reached the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, or helping her through the portrait hole at Gryffindor Tower? She was reconfirming her own strongly held suspicion that she was indeed the world's worst girlfriend. What girl would not want her boyfriend to always behave like the ideal gentleman? Ginny Weasley, apparently, that's who. _Clearly_, she thought to herself (and for not the first time), _there is something terribly wrong with me_.

She stifled a yawn. It was far too early to be up, especially considering the late-afternoon-into-early-evening Quidditch practice that Harry had scheduled to, again, coincide with one of Slughorn's parties. He did it, Ginny knew, to give himself an easy way out of attending, but it did have the secondary effect of placating Ron's ego. It also gave Ron a chance to talk about Hermione under the guise of taking the mickey out of her when, in truth, he simply liked to talk about Hermione.

"What do you suppose Hermione's doing now?" Ron had badgered Harry for the twelfth time, as the three of them were locking up the equipment.

"I haven't the slightest, Ron," Harry had replied with exasperation. "I'm sure she's having a good time."

"Ha!" Ron laughed. "You think she's having a better time with Zabini or McLaggen?"

That had been an opportunity Ginny found she could not pass up. "You know, Ron, I've noticed that Hermione and Cormac have been talking quite a bit in the hallways and the common room. Have you noticed that? Do you think something might be going on with them?"

This had shut Ron up, and he had quickly turned and hurried back towards the castle. Harry had then asked Ginny: "Do you really think Hermione and McLaggen are getting involved?"

"Doubtful," had been Ginny's response. "What on earth would Hermione have to talk about with that dunderhead? She would just as soon date you."

"I think you may be trying to insult me," Harry had answered with a grin.

"Oh, no," was Ginny's mock protest. "I am most definitely, without question, trying to insult you. No 'maybe' about it."

The rest of the evening had been spent with Ron, Harry, and Dean on the couches in the common room, waiting for Hermione to return. Ginny smiled recalling the look on her brother's face when she did so escorted through the portrait by none other than Cormac McLaggen.

_Serves him right_, she thought to herself, smiling at the memory. But then her smile froze, and she did as well. So caught up had she been in her thoughts about Hogsmeade and Dean and Quidditch practice…

… _and Harry…_

… she had been so caught up she hadn't paid attention to where she was walking until just this moment, when she realized she was standing directly in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, in which lay, of course, the hidden entrance to the underground catacomb she had dreamed of just a short while ago.

A sudden chill passed over her. Her legs began to shake and her breath began to come in short gasps. She sank to the floor; the overwhelming feeling of being here in the middle of the night as the rest of the school slept that rushed over her was both alien and familiar. Riddle's diary had guided her here at this hour on many an occasion, but back then she hadn't been in control of herself, not really. Of course, she hadn't realized where she was going just now, either. Could it be possible? Could Riddle have somehow taken control over her again? Could she be under the influence, again, of some awful memory? Maybe she had never really shaken the influence of the diary… maybe she was going to open the Chamber and the basilisk would come slithering out and it would all start over again only this time Harry wouldn't be able to come and save her and…

She stopped herself. She closed her eyes. _You are being ridiculous_, she commanded her brain. _Stop this immediately!_

After a few long minutes, she opened her eyes again, half expecting the ghostly form of Tom Riddle to be standing before her, mocking her, leering at her. But the corridor was empty. She was alone with her fear.

This was only the second time she had managed to bring herself here this year. She had sworn that she would enter the bathroom again on her first day back to school, but hadn't been able to force herself through the door then. Now, she realized with disappointment, she had avoided making a return trip for one reason or another, when the true reason was that she was still scared.

So why tonight? Why had her unconscious brain brought her here tonight? She had had that nightmare many times before in the school. Why, tonight, was she drawn back to the scene of the crime, so to speak? Did the addition of Fawkes have something to do with it? Taking a deep breath, she thought back with some difficulty to that day in the Chamber. It was all so fuzzy… she didn't remember anything, really, until after it was over. There was Harry standing over her, holding the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the diary in his other. She remembered crying… she remembered doing lots of crying, and it always mortified her to no end to think of it now… she remembered crying as Harry put down his sword and helped her to her feet, crying as she grasped his arm for support, burying her tear-streaked face into his robes. She remembered being too embarrassed and scared to look at Harry as he guided her towards the Chamber's entrance, picking up the sword and the Sorting Hat along the way. She remembered Fawkes leading the way out, back to Ron and Lockhart, and up the secret passage back into Myrtle's bathroom, and then out here, into this very corridor…

She shook her head. She saw no reason why she should have carried herself back here tonight. If she had dreamed of the Sword of Gryffindor or the Sorting Hat, would she have ended up here as well?

But she hadn't, had she? She had instead dreamed of Fawkes. For some reason.

Ginny sat where she was, staring at the door, losing track of time, racking her brain and trying to determine some reason as to why she would have felt the need to make it all the way back to here on this particular evening after having that particular nightmare. Just when she was on the verge of giving up entirely and heading back to her dorm to try and catch at least another hour or so of sleep…

"Good evening, Miss Weasley."

If it had been physically possible to jump out of one's skin, she would have. She spun around to see who had snuck up on her, a part of her (the part reaching for a wand that she had left in her dormitory) utterly convinced that it was going to be Tom Riddle.

It was, in fact, Tom Riddle's worst nightmare.

"I'm terribly sorry. I seem to have startled you," said Albus Dumbledore, a kindly twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps it was my usage of the term 'good evening', when I should very clearly be saying 'good morning', and a sensationally early one it is, at that."

Ginny nodded slowly, her wits returning to her. "I- I'm sorry, Professor," she stammered, the part of her brain that had been trained by Fred and George suddenly realizing that the school headmaster had caught her out of bed well beyond curfew. "I- I was sleepwalking, and I just- I-" she stopped. Dumbledore's friendly smile had been replaced with a slightly sterner version.

"Miss Weasley," he intoned, "perhaps when you are as advanced in years as I, you will realize that it is no difficult trick to tell a well-spun lie from the honest truth. That being said," and at this his demeanor returned to it's usual warmth, "rest assured that I am far less likely to punish a student for being out of bed at this unusual hour than is Mr. Filch, particularly when that student undoubtedly has a perfectly good reason for being about. May I?"

It took Ginny a moment to realize he was indicating the floor, as though being invited to sit there would be of the greatest honor. "Yes, of course," she replied. Dumbledore smiled, and lowered himself to sit next to her. As he did so, she caught a glimpse of that which was often hidden beneath his sleeve, and that which had become the talk of the school from the first day of term: his right hand, withered and blackened, looking near dead. Seeing it so closely caused her to shudder just a bit, but in a flash again it was gone, hidden with a flick of the wrist underneath the Headmaster's robes. Traveling robes, she realized.

"Going somewhere this morning, Professor?" Ginny asked.

"Ever astute and observant, aren't you, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore said with a chuckle. "I have business that is taking me away from the castle today, it is true. But that is not the question of the moment." Ginny looked away. She could guess what the "question of the moment" was.

"I almost hesitate to ask, Miss Weasley, but what brings you here this morning?"

For a moment Ginny considered lying to him, but then figured there was no point to it. He was Albus Dumbledore, after all. If he wanted the truth from her badly enough he'd probably figure out some way of getting it.

"I had a nightmare," she admitted. "I took a walk to clear my head, and without realizing it, I found myself here."

Dumbledore nodded. "It had been my understanding," he said with an air of concern, "that your nightmares had stopped."

Ginny shrugged. "They have, for the most part," she admitted. "Last time I had them was last year, when my dad was attacked by that snake. I had to explain to Harry what it was like to be possessed by… Tom Riddle," (she glanced at Dumbledore but he gave no indication that she should use a different name), "and explaining it to him sort of made me remember it and relive it, some nights.

"Understandable," Dumbledore nodded.

"Only this one was different," Ginny pressed on. "Your phoenix was there. Fawkes."

"That is his name, yes. I shall be sure to remember you to him."

"Thanks, Professor," Ginny said with a smirk. She could recognize and appreciate the playfully mocking tone hidden in his voice, having often used it herself. She continued, "Anyway, I was in the Chamber, and Riddle was there, and the basilisk, as always… but Fawkes was also there, just watching, and then he cried a tear and burst into flames… and I woke up."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Was that all?" he asked.

Ginny scrunched up her brow, trying to remember. As time slipped away, so were the details of the dream. "No," she finally replied. "I asked him to tell me something. I told him I needed to know something." She looked up at Dumbledore. "Sir, what could that possibly mean?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, and then spoke. "I am not so gifted in the fine art of Divination, I'm afraid. In my experience, however, I have found that oftentimes, no matter how disturbing or prescient it may seem, a dream is just a dream. Nothing more." Ginny nodded, but Dumbledore, perhaps sensing her dissatisfaction, went on. "Although if you find that answer to be lacking, there is always another option."

"What's that, Professor?"

"You could ask Fawkes what it is he needs to tell you." Ginny smiled, and glancing up she could see the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye. "I do have an 'in' with him, you know. I'm sure I could arrange something."

"I'll keep that in mind, Professor," Ginny said with a smile.

They fell into silence again. Ginny stared at the door to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, her mind returning to the dream, trying to unravel its significance, if any. Just when she had almost forgotten Dumbledore was beside her, he spoke again.

"You have nothing further to fear from this doorway, Miss Weasley," he said quietly. "I am quite certain that the Chamber of Secrets has already given up all of its secrets."

"I know, Professor," Ginny sighed. "But…" She stopped. There was more; she just couldn't put her finger on what that "more" was.

"Yes?"

She thought about it, long and hard. She had been drawn here, whether she liked to admit it or not, drawn back to this corridor on so many occasions, often for no more reason than to pass by this doorway. Now, for the first time, she was being asked to place that drawing power into words, to explain it, and she found that she didn't know how.

"There's something here," she finally said. "I don't know what it is. I don't know if it's important to anyone but me. But there's something here. Some… answer that I'm looking for." She looked up at the Headmaster, half expecting a patronizing gaze. She did not receive one.

"Are you certain?" was instead all Dumbledore asked.

"Pretty certain," Ginny replied.

Dumbledore nodded. "I would advise you, Miss Weasley, that the answers we seek in life are very often not where, or what, we expect them to be."

"They aren't, Professor?"

"No. Well, except, of course, when they are. Or once were."

"I don't understand."

"Perhaps the answers you seek were once in the Chamber, but have since moved on."

"But that's the part that doesn't make any sense," Ginny retorted, her frustration starting to build. "There's nothing that was in that Chamber that I ever want to find again."

"Ah," Dumbledore replied. "And are you certain of that as well?"

"I'm positively certain!" exclaimed Ginny. "One-hundred percent certain! Absolutely, definitely certain! I… " She closed her eyes, counted to ten, and after a moment continued on more quietly. "There's nothing good down there, Professor. There never was. All that's left in the Chamber of Secrets are bad memories. That's what's so stupid about this. That's what I don't understand. There's nothing I want through that door, but I keep coming back here. There's nothing in there that can hurt me, but I'm too scared to go in. Sometimes I come here, like tonight, and I don't really know why, and I feel like I must be losing my mind."

Dumbledore seemed to seriously entertain this possibility, but then shook his head slowly. "I don't think that to be the case, Miss Weasley. You were held in the power of a memory, as it were; a memory Tom Riddle trapped in his diary. You now have nothing left from that experience but your own memories of it, memories of what must have been a terrible ordeal for you, one that few others can truly comprehend. It is not at all surprising to me that you are both drawn to and repelled by the remnants of those memories." Dumbledore turned from the door and looked down at her over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "If I may say, Miss Weasley, your plight is not so uncommon, nor should you be so hard on yourself for it. After all, your own worst memories are the one enemy that you can never outrun."

Ginny shook her head ruefully. "Yes, well, with all due respect, Professor, I still feel frustrated and just… stupid. Because the reality is that you can't get hurt by a memory."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw Professor Dumbledore flex his blackened hand under the sleeve of his robe. "You would be surprised," he answered her with a soft smile.

For a moment they sat together, lost in their individual thoughts. Then, Professor Dumbledore rose. "I believe we have both spent enough time here, lost in memory," he said, offering Ginny his hand (his LEFT hand, she noted.) "I must be off, and as for you and your search for answers, always a noble search… if any answers are to come to you here, Miss Weasley, they may not arrive before this day truly begins. It is after six in the morning, after all." Ginny was stunned; she had not realized so much time had passed. "Yes," chuckled Dumbledore, "I am sure you have things to do today. It is Hogsmeade day, I believe?"

"It is," she replied, stifling a yawn. As always, she could see she was going to regret not going back to sleep after her nightmare, now faded into a distant, fuzzy memory.

"Before we part, Miss Weasley, there is a small favor I would like to ask of you, if I may be so bold."

"Oh. Of course, sir," Ginny answered, surprised. Dumbledore smiled, and then withdrew from the folds of his robe (again with his left hand) a small piece of rolled-up parchment, tied loosely with a silver string.

"If you could pass this on to Mr. Potter when you see him," he asked. "I'm afraid I simply won't have the time to find him myself. It seems I am destined to be late. Now, now, don't fret," he said, cutting off her apologies for keeping him. "It is not your fault in the slightest. It is my own. Remember, 'late' can mean a great many things. Will you give Harry the parchment?"

Ginny nodded. "Of course, sir."

"Thank you, Miss Weasley." He handed her the parchment, but did not let go immediately. She looked at him questioningly. "It is a private message," Dumbledore told her. "But not so private the world would end should someone else's eyes fall upon it. I trust you will respect that privacy as I would expect any of your more industrious siblings to do."

Ginny looked at him for a moment, wondering if he was actually saying what she thought he was saying. "Of… course, Professor?" she replied, not assuredly at all.

But Dumbledore simply smiled. "Good!" he replied happily. "Then I would ask you nothing more than to have a wonderful day, Miss Weasley. Enjoy Hogsmeade, and think fondly of me in Honeydukes. I do have a bit of a sweet tooth, you know." With that, Dumbledore turned and walked briskly down the corridor.

A thought occurred to her as he strode away. "Professor!" Ginny called after him. "Why did you come down here?"

Dumbledore called over his shoulder, "Why, to speak to you, Miss Weasley. Of course."

"Okay, so, how did you know I would be…" But he had turned the corner and was gone.

She stared after him. She wasn't certain if she had learned anything, really, from their conversation, but she couldn't deny she felt better than she had when she had first woken up. Of course, the sunlight streaming in through the windows probably had something to do with that. Morning had a way of vanquishing nightmares that she had always been grateful for.

She looked down at the parchment in her hand and only hesitated for a moment before pulling open the string. Professor Dumbledore had practically invited her to do so, after all. Unrolling the parchment, she read:

_Dear Harry,_

_I believe the time has come for our second lesson. If it is at all convenient to you, please come to my office at eight p.m. this Monday evening. I trust you are keeping out of trouble. There is, after all, a first time for everything._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. – In the case that your memory is as poor as mine: Acid Pops_

Ginny smiled. There was indeed a first time for everything, and as far as she could tell Harry had indeed been staying out of more trouble than usual, his adventures with his potion book notwithstanding. Still, she could not reason why Dumbledore would ever imagine she'd have any interest in this particular note. _Acid Pops? _she wondered. _What is that supposed to mean?_

Without giving it a second thought, she rolled the note back up and retied it. The castle was beginning to stir, and she had a date. She would have to find Harry before leaving for Hogsmeade to give him his note, but first she needed to go and get ready. She hurried off down the corridor, back towards Gryffindor Tower, yawning broadly as she did so.

It was going to be a long day.


	11. Chapter 10: Debacle

Ginny yawned. She had been right; the day hadn't even started and she was already exhausted. The warmth radiating from the common room fireplace as she sat on the sofa waiting for Dean to appear wasn't helping either. _That's what I get,_ she chided herself playfully, _for having a nightmare and wandering the halls at ungodly hours chatting up the Headmaster._

"Ginny?" Startled, she looked up. Dean stood over her, carrying a heavy winter coat. Her body had just begun to give in to the seductive heat of the fire and she hadn't even heard him approach. "You all right?"

"Fine," she answered, blinking rapidly and rubbing her eyes, trying to rouse herself thoroughly. "Just a little tired."

"The wind and snow will wake you up. It's howling out there."

"Oh. Should we stay in, then?"

Dean grinned. "I don't think so," he said. "I've a big day planned for us."

He opened the portrait hole door, and then turned to Ginny, his hand extended to help her through. "Thanks," she said through a fixed smile, taking the offered help. She hated when he did that.

Down in the Great Hall, Dean chatted pleasantly over breakfast with Seamus, Neville, Lavender, and Parvati, not noticing Ginny's drooping eyelids, nor her chin dipping dangerously close to her eggs and oatmeal. It was only after her third cup of coffee that she began to feel even remotely like herself.

"Have a good time, you two!" Lavender said as she, Seamus, and Neville left for the entrance hall.

"Try your best, anyway," Parvati murmured under her breath to Ginny with a glance down the table before following after the others. With her coffee mug lifted halfway to her lips, Ginny looked down the Gryffindor table in the direction of Parvati's gaze, but the only ones left there were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, huddled together in their usual exclusionary group. In her sleep-deprived brain, she couldn't even begin to figure out what Parvati had been implying.

Seeing Harry, however, did jostle another memory.

"Ready to go?" asked Dean.

"One second," Ginny replied. "I just have to give Harry something."

"Harry? Now?" But she was already on her feet and moving down the table towards her brother and his two friends.

"We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in," she heard Harry saying as she approached. Ron laughed and Hermione looked amused in spite of herself; idly, Ginny wondered if any other group of students joked about how often they found themselves close to death than these three.

"Hey, Harry," she said as he noticed her approaching, "I'm supposed to give you this."

She handed him the parchment that Dumbledore had given her. "Thanks, Ginny," he replied, unrolling it. Ginny felt only the slightest pang of guilt over having read it, but she quickly pushed that aside. The Headmaster, she reminded herself, had practically insisted she do so (though without actually saying it), for reasons unknown.

"It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry said. "Monday evening! Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?"

That last had been unexpected, and not only to her, if the stunned look on Ron's face was any indication. Hermione, on the other hand, was peering intently at Harry, as if trying to make out something on his face that she had just now noticed was there. "I'm going with Dean," she answered him, "might see you there." And with a wave over her shoulder, she returned to Dean, standing at the doors to the entrance hall with just an air of impatience about him. To his credit, though, he seemed determined not to let anything take away from the day. "Ready, then?" he asked through a smile that seemed only a little forced.

"Ready!" Ginny said brightly, hoping inwardly that the coffee would keep her propped up long enough to make it through the day. With a nod and a smile, Dean grasped her hand, and led her to the oak front doors where Filch was performing security checks with a Secrecy Sensor. "Who cares," Ginny muttered, "what we're smuggling OUT? You think he'd be more concerned with what we're smuggling IN." Dean laughed, and before they knew it they were past Filch and out on the grounds.

Almost immediately Ginny wished they had stayed in the common room. The wind was whipping around a wicked combination of snow and sleet and they had to bend double to make any progress down the path to Hogsmeade at all. They were wrapped up so tightly in their coats and scarves as to be unidentifiable; if she hadn't known it was Dean with whom she left, Ginny would not have been able to tell just who she was on a date with.

The cold, at least, served to shock her awake. They shuffled along to Hogsmeade in silence; not by choice, but simply because they wouldn't have been able to hear each other if they tried. When finally reaching the town, Ginny noticed with some trepidation that Zonko's was closed. She tried to ignore the sudden sense of foreboding that fell over her. Clearly it was not just Diagon Alley where things were changing for the worse.

Honeydukes, thankfully, was open. Ginny tugged Dean on the sleeve and pointed towards the sweet shop, but he didn't seem to want to stop. Grabbing him firmly round the elbow, she very nearly dragged him out of the cold and into the sugar-sweetened air of the store.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, pulling off her scarf. "I just had to warm up for a second."

"S'alright," Dean replied, although he glanced towards the door as he did so. "We can take a bit of a rest. Wicked out, isn't it?"

They browsed for a bit through the shelves, Ginny smiling as they passed the Acid Pops, her thoughts drifting back to her peculiar yet oddly comforting conversation with Dumbledore this morning. She wasn't sure what, if any, good it had really done her, but a nagging thought in the back of her mind whispered that it had been more useful than she perhaps realized. Time would tell, she supposed.

She eventually picked out a box of homemade fudge that Dean insisted on buying for her. As he walked up to the counter to pay, Ginny yawned. The warm, sweet air in the shop seemed to be dragging her eyelids lower and lower, and she found herself almost longing for the bracing air of the blizzard outside. And if the threat of drifting sleep wasn't enough of a reason to get out of Honeydukes…

"Ginevra, m'lass!" boomed Professor Slughorn as he entered the shop, his great round belly preceding him by several moments. "We've missed you at our gatherings thus far!"

"Yes, Professor, sorry," she said hastily. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she still found there to be something just a bit… off… about Slughorn. "I've had Quidditch practice."

"And very unlucky you are for that," Slughorn gravely intoned, taking off a large furry hat that Ginny had upon first glance mistook for a dead animal of some sort. "I must have a word with that Captain of yours! I simply can not have another affair without Harry Potter in attendance… and you, of course, Miss Weasley."

"Of course, sir. I'll pass the message on to Harry."

"Good, good, see that you do. Our next get-together will be Monday, so if there is no Quidditch…"

"If there's no Quidditch I'll be there, Professor," Ginny said quickly. Inwardly, she grinned. She knew that the announcement of a Slug Club meeting meant that there would indeed be Gryffindor Quidditch practice on Monday evening, bad weather be damned.

"So, Miss Weasley, I'm curious," and at this, Slughorn leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to her. "Did you ever figure out what it was you smelled in the vapors of Amortentia?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, Professor, I haven't." It was the truth, but the real truth was she hadn't really given it much thought lately, so busy had she been with fifth year schoolwork, Quidditch, and Dean.

"Ah, a pity!" he bemoaned, although his amused grin showed no real sign of pity about it, Ginny noted. "Do be sure to let me know if you should be struck with the realization, won't you? I would be most interested to know. Now," he concluded, straightening up, "if you'll excuse me, I believe I hear a box of crystallized pineapple calling my name." And with a congenial nod of his head he was off, squeezing past a returning Dean.

"What did Slughorn want?" Dean asked, clutching Ginny's fudge.

"Just wanted to invite me to another meeting of the Slug Club on Monday," Ginny answered, watching a grinning Slughorn speaking animatedly to the bored looking wizard behind the counter. She wasn't sure, but she was near certain the professor was explaining why he shouldn't have to actually pay for his pineapple.

"Ah," answered Dean tactfully. "Er… not to seem rude, Gin, but…"

"Why am I a member of the club?" Ginny finished for him. "No idea. It's either that bat-bogey hex I laid on Zacharias really, really impressed him, or…" she hesitated, but upon thinking about it, saw no reason to avoid mentioning it. "I think it's because I remind him of an old favorite student of his."

"Who's that?"

"Harry's mum, actually," Ginny replied, peering out at the blizzard framed in the window. "I've seen pictures, and I don't think we look that much alike, but you know some people: seen one redhead, seen 'em all." She glanced at Dean, whose mouth had dropped from a grin to more of a grimace and who had also directed his gaze outside into the wintry mess blowing around. Ginny had the feeling he wasn't looking outside so much as he was not looking at her. "Anyway," she continued, "I won't have to go, of course, because the moment I tell Harry that the meeting is Monday night, he'll schedule Quidditch practice and we'll…"

She stopped. No, he wouldn't. Harry already had an excuse to not go to Slughorn's Monday night party and Ginny knew because she had delivered him the invitation herself, an invitation she had snuck a look at. Harry had lessons with Dumbledore on Monday.

Which meant she no longer had an excuse not to be there.

Which Slughorn would surely realize.

Which meant she was going to have to go.

She closed her eyes and groaned. "What's the matter?" Dean asked, turning back to her.

"I just realized that I have to go to the stupid bloody party."

"But you just said…"

"I know, but there won't be practice, because Harry has to… " she checked herself; something told her Dumbledore didn't want the whole school to know what was in that note. "Harry has plans," she amended.

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. His grimace grew more pronounced. "Know his whole schedule, do you?"

"No," Ginny retorted. _What is THAT supposed to mean?_ "I just happen to know that on Monday night, he has something else to do."

A dangerous silence hung between them for a moment. Ginny realized she had two choices: let it descend, or lighten the mood. As she was trying desperately to be a good girlfriend for a change, she chose the latter.

"Although if you wanted to figure out Harry's schedule," she added, mock-thoughtfully, "it shouldn't be too difficult. One o'clock: whisper with Ron and Hermione. Two o'clock: save world. Three o'clock: whisper some more with Ron and Hermione. Four o'clock: save world again, with Ron and Hermione."

For a long second, it didn't work. Then Dean smirked and laughed. "Right," he agreed. "You can set your watch by it, can't you?"

They laughed together, for which Ginny was grateful. The last thing she wanted was for this date to blow up in their faces. "Shall we go, then?" she asked brightly, wrapping her scarf around her face and bracing for the cold.

Back outside, it seemed as though the icy chill whirling around had only intensified. Together they plowed through the snow, Ginny fixing whatever gaze she had to the warm light emanating from the windows of the Three Broomsticks. She was beginning to genuinely look forward to it… a cozy corner both, a warm Butterbeer, perhaps some kissing… or a lot of it…

Headed towards the pub, she felt a tug on her arm. She looked back at Dean, who shook his head and pointed further down the road.

"Not the Three Broomsticks?" Ginny asked, practically having to shout to be heard over the wind.

"No! This way!" Dean shouted back, grinning again under his scarf. He turned and continued on, a confused Ginny hurrying to keep up. If they weren't going to the Three Broomsticks, where were they going? The Hogs Head? No, that couldn't be it…

Oh, no.

No.

Sweet Merlin, no.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach Ginny realized where they were headed, each step confirming her fears just a little bit more, and when they turned up the quiet side road there was no longer any doubt. Dean opened the front door of their destination and helped Ginny into a room that looked as much like a ball of cotton candy as it did a tea shop. Shutting the door behind them, he asked, "Have you been to Madam Puddifoot's before?"

"No," Ginny lied. She had been, of course. Michael had brought her the year prior, but that wasn't a topic she much felt like exploring with Dean. One only came to Madam Puddifoot's to hide in the vapors and snog, hardly a memory she thought appropriate to share with her current boyfriend (although she did wonder how and with whom HE had discovered the shop). Truth be told, she and Michael hadn't done much of anything romantic in the brief time they had spent here, as Ginny had laughed them straight out of the ridiculous place. That, really, had been the beginning of the end for she and Michael Corner.

And now she was back, and it was just as awful as she remembered, with soft firelight casting flickering illumination on scattered pairings of romantically entwined Hogwarts students. Dean led them through the tight quarters to an empty table. "It's not my usual cup of tea," he said, chuckling at his own joke. "But it really is… romantic… don't you think?"

_I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh…_

"Yes, terribly," Ginny agreed through a stiff smile. She glanced around, almost offended that in the past year nobody had thought to improve the décor: the bows, the frills, the tiny round tables with the gold chairs, the steam… oh, the steam… it was all still there, just as she remembered it. _Terrible_, she thought.

She was so stupid… how could she not have seen this coming? It was so obvious, but on the other hand she just couldn't imagine in a million years that anyone would CHOOSE to come to this place. If she had only thought about it for a second, anticipated it, maybe she could have headed this off at the pass, dropped hints about how awful she thought tea shops were… but it was too late now, and Dean was already making gooey eyes at her across the table, reaching for her hand, and all she wanted to do was make inappropriate jokes about the offensive overuse of glitter and pink in their surroundings.

The worst of it, though, was they had been in the overheated confines of the shop for only a minute and she could already feel the need for sleep dancing around the edge of her consciousness.

"It's a charming place," Dean continued, oblivious to Ginny's revulsion to the cozy confines in which they were now thoroughly ensconced.

"Mm-hmm!" Ginny responded with false enthusiasm, still forcing a smile.

"What'll it be, m'dears? My, aren't you an attractive pair!" said Madame Puddifoot as she squeezed up to their table, her black hair in its usual bun, her lace apron stiff and white.

"Two coffees," said Dean.

"And I will also have two coffees," Ginny said, stifling a yawn.

Dean laughed, and Madame Puddifoot said gently, "I believe he meant to order your coffee, dearie."

"Oh, yes, of course!" Ginny said, shaking her head and trying to clear it. It was just so warm in here…

"Don't worry," Madame Puddifoot said with a wink as she left their table, "I'll make yours a double." As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean reached across the table and took up Ginny's hand again.

"Ginny," he said quietly. "I just want you to know how much I've enjoyed our time together so far."

"Oh… yes!" Said Ginny, nodding earnestly. "So have I, Dean!"

"You know… I'm almost embarrassed to say it… but I admired you for quite a long time, and I was nervous, I'll admit, to ever approach you, as Ron and I are dorm mates, and sometimes… well, sometimes blokes get funny about their mates trying to date their sisters."

"Mm-hmm," Ginny agreed. She was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything except how heavy her head seemed to be getting. Did they ever turn the heat down in this place? Dean was still talking, and she suddenly realized she had missed a few sentences. Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes wide, she tried to refocus.

"… so I knew when you ditched Michael… I just knew that if I didn't say something to you, at least see how you felt, that I'd regret it. So I did, and thankfully Ron took it very well, I think."

"Oh, yes," Ginny murmured. "Very well." Her chin was now resting in her free hand; surely no harm could come from that. Already her head felt lighter… so much lighter…

"… and you know, Ginny," Dean was finishing up shyly, "I really feel like this, you and I… I really feel like this could be the start of something special."

"Oh, yes," Ginny agreed, not entirely sure of what she was agreeing to. It was so warm and quiet in here… she couldn't remember what she had ever disliked about this place before… it was so cozy… wait… why was Dean closing his eyes and leaning towards her? Oh, Merlin, he was going to kiss her! Quickly, Ginny closed her own eyes, and their lips met… softly, very softly, terribly pleasant… she could certainly get used to kissing Dean, she realized… it was not unlike falling gently… falling gently, warmly, and settling into a cloud… she was settling… settling… settling…

THUMP!

With a gasp, Ginny awoke and pulled her head up from the table. Dean was staring at her in stunned silence. Her head was swimming…. what had just happened…?

"Did you…" Dean choked out the words disbelievingly. "Did you just fall asleep while we were kissing?"

With a horrible dawning realization, Ginny realized she had. "Dean," she said, her face growing red with embarrassment. "Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry. I… "

But Dean stood up, an angry expression on his face, grabbed his coat and stormed out of the shop, jostling a couple near the door as he exited. "Dean, wait!" Ginny called after him… but he was gone. From over her shoulder, Madam Puddifoot placed two mugs on the table.

"Coffee black, m'dear," she said. "But I reckon it's a bit too late for you, eh?"

With a groan, Ginny grabbed her own coat and hurried out the door. Dean was marching away through the snow. "Dean, wait!" she cried, desperate to be heard over the wind. He stopped and she hurried towards him, his back still to her.

"Dean, I'm sorry!" Ginny apologized. "I couldn't sleep last night. I had a nightmare and I spent half the night wandering the halls of the castle, and…"

Dean spun to face her. "You know," he cut her off, "I spent a lot of time planning this."

"I do know," Ginny replied, "but to be fair, it's not as though you actually had to plan a lot, is it? We just had to show up at Madam Puddifoot's, didn't we?" She realized the moment she said it that this was probably exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Oh, were my plans not good enough for you?" Dean asked hotly. Ginny shuffled her feet.

"I'm not saying that, but… "

"No, go on, you can say it! You were bored out of your mind! You were drowsing off from the moment we sat down!"

"That wasn't because of you!" Ginny protested, her own temper beginning to rise. "I didn't sleep last night, if you'd listen to me! And then you brought me to this sauna… well, what did you expect to happen?"

"I'm supposed to know you didn't sleep last night? I'm not psychic, you know."

"I know," said Ginny trying to stay calm. "Of course I know, but… Dean… it's Madame Puddifoot's. Come off it, Dean, it's a deathtrap in pink! I would never voluntarily have come back here!"

"So you lied to me?" Dean demanded. "You have been here before?"

"Of course I have! Honestly. Michael brought me. Oh, don't you look so put out. You've been here, too!" Ginny shot back at him. "I don't expect it was with Seamus, either. I don't even care! Where are you going?"

Dean had turned on his heel and was tromping off angrily back in the direction of school, leaving Ginny behind at the entrance to Madam Puddifoot's.

"I suppose that's the end of our date, then!" she shouted after him, doubtful he could hear her through the wind. If he could, he gave no indication, and was soon lost in the obscuring blanket of wind-whipped snow.

"Bloody prat," Ginny swore under her breath. This one was not her fault. Yes, she fell asleep in the middle of their date, while Dean was kissing her no less, but he overreacted! Completely overreacted! Well, mostly. If only he'd given her a chance to explain… _but,_ she thought to herself, _I wouldn't have, would I? I'm not likely to be telling Dean of my recurring nightmares about the Chamber of Secrets._ This was not something Ginny shared with anyone, and she certainly wouldn't share it with her still relatively new boyfriend, not if she didn't want to scare him off.

Ginny was forced to begrudgingly accept that this debacle, while not entirely her fault, was at least partially her fault. And now here she was, standing alone outside of this wretched haunt of sweethearts, beginning to feel about as pathetic as she could.

She refused to let that feeling overtake her. She headed out, not in any particular direction, but determined to enjoy her day in Hogsmeade, howling wind and snow and all. She wandered stubbornly from store to store, from Scrivenshaft's to Gladrags to Dervish and Bangs, each one more utterly boring than the last, until she began to feel as though she were a first-year all over again, friendless and alone.

Except she wasn't. Harry had invited her out, hadn't he? With a nod of encouragement to herself, she stomped off towards the Three Broomsticks where she assumed Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be ensconced, as usual. She would just join them, Ron's complaints be damned. And if they weren't there, certainly some other friends of hers would be. She was, after all, extremely popular (not that such things were important to her) and she was now determined to have a good time in spite of how horribly her date with Dean had gone.

That'd show him.

She pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks, a smile forced onto her face, determined to show Harry and the others what a good time she was ready to have… but they were not there. Her smile faltered. Clearly Ron, Hermione, and Harry were off having some adventure or another, and she had been given a handwritten invitation to join them… but she had turned it down so she could go on the worst date recorded history had ever borne witness to.

Her spirit deflated completely. It had been an utterly depressing day. While the bar was emptier than it normally would have been, no doubt due to the blizzard raging outside, the Creevy brothers were there, along with Natalie, and there was Luna in a corner both, swaying gently and humming to herself. Ginny, however, suddenly lost the urge to spend time with or speak to anyone else. Luna noticed her and waved her over, but Ginny pretended not to understand, waving back and turning right around and walking out the door, out of town, back up the path to school, into the entrance hall, up to Gryffindor Tower, through the portrait hole, through the common room, up to her dormitory, barely pausing long enough to take off her wet coat and shoes before collapsing onto her bed, drawing the curtain back around her, finally and blissfully succumbing to exhaustion.

She woke with a start what seemed like mere minutes later. For a moment she sat and stared straight ahead, her brain struggling to wake up alongside of her body. Had that awful day been a dream? She pulled the curtain to her bed aside.

"Hey, lazy bones, you finally woke up." It was one of her dorm mates, sitting on the bed across from her, reading some witch's fashion magazine. "You slept right through dinner. What happened, did Deany wear you out?"

Ginny ignored that last. "Dinner's over?" she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes.

"Just about," the girl responded. "If you hurry, you might be able to catch the last of it." She turned her nose back into her magazine, effectively ending the conversation.

Ginny sat on her bed a few more moments. She didn't necessarily feel like speaking to anyone at the moment but she realized that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and she was starving. Fortunately, if dinner was near its end, maybe that meant she could find an empty spot on the bench and just eat there by herself. She had done it enough first and second year; shouldn't be that much harder now. She hopped out of bed, freshened up, and hurried down the steps to the common room, crossing it quickly. Ron and Hermione sat together in a corner, whispering to each other. As she reached the portrait hole, she heard Hermione call out after her, "Ginny! There you are! Come over!" but she ignored the older girl. Ginny was really not in the mood to talk to anybody, not about her date, not about anything.

She hurried down to the Great Hall. As she had guessed, there were but a few stragglers left at the Gryffindor table. What she wouldn't have guessed was Harry was among them, looking quite as put out as she felt.

She had fully intended to come down here and eat alone. She had fully intended not to look at anyone, not to talk to anyone, to eat, and then go back to her room and go to bed. And yet before she even realized it was happening, her legs had carried her to a spot at the table directly across from Harry.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked.

Harry looked up from his thoughts and his treacle tart, surprised to see her. "Oh… Ginny! Hi. Yeah, sure, sit." She did.

Harry's attention returned to the act of disinterestedly pushing the tart around on his plate with his fork. Ginny reached at one of the few trays of actual food still hiding among the desserts, loading up a plate with chicken and carrots. They sat like that in silence for a few moments, she eating dinner and he playing with his dessert, when Ginny spoke up. "You've looked better."

Harry nodded slowly, without looking at her. "It's been a long day," he said.

"I know what you mean," Ginny agreed. "Still, it's a bit peculiar seeing you eating without Ron and Hermione. Something happen?"

"We had a bit of a row. They don't agree with me over who gave Katie the necklace."

"Someone gave Katie a necklace?" Ginny said in surprise. She hadn't heard about anyone fancying Katie. Usually she was fairly good at keeping an ear out for gossip nobody wanted anyone else to know; she was, after all, a little sister. "Who are the suspects?" she asked.

"I think Draco Malfoy," Harry said darkly. "Your brother and Hermione don't."

Ginny was taken aback. The Draco she knew would step on a Gryffindor as soon as fancy one, and she couldn't imagine him showing interest like that in Katie. "I hardly think it could have been Draco Malfoy, Harry. Doesn't that seem like a bit of a stretch?"

"Oh, you agree with them, do you?" Harry said with a scowl.

"I can't believe you don't," Ginny replied hotly, her own mood not giving her a high tolerance for the foul one Harry seemed to be sporting. "On what planet does Draco Malfoy fancy Katie Bell?"

Harry looked at her. "Fancy her?" he asked confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, why else would someone give her a necklace?"

Harry stared blankly at Ginny for a moment, as though he didn't understand the words coming out of her mouth. Finally, he spoke. "How much have you heard about what happened today?"

Ginny suddenly fell under the impression that she had heard very little. "What happened today?" she asked with a growing sense of dread.

And Harry explained to her about Katie and the cursed necklace, the one that, when she had touched it, had caused her to rise up gracefully into the air, how he and Ron had to drag her back to the ground where she writhed and screamed until Hagrid arrived to pick her up and run her off to the hospital wing, how Katie had been Imperiused into carrying the necklace to give to somebody else up at the school, and how Hermione had seen that very necklace earlier in the year in Diagon Alley, at Borgin and Burkes…

"… and I saw it, too," he finished, growing more animated as the story continued. "I saw it ages ago, and I saw Malfoy staring at it and smiling at the card when he read how it was cursed and had killed a bunch of Muggles who had touched it, back when I accidentally Flooed into Borgin and Burkes before my second year, your first… I mean, my second year." He glanced at her uneasily, realizing he had inadvertently mentioned what Ginny liked to half-jokingly call "the lost year", as nobody ever mentioned THAT year around her if they could help it.

"My first year," she finished for him. "I remember, mum was frantic looking for you, dragging me around Diagon Alley." She nodded. "I could see Malfoy doing something like that."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Right!" he said. "Ron and Hermione say he's too young to work for Voldemort, but I don't think so!"

"Neither do I," Ginny agreed. "After all, Tom was evil as a student. Why wouldn't he expect others to be as well? That's their only reason for saying it couldn't have been Malfoy?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Malfoy had detention today, with McGonagall. He couldn't have been in Hogsmeade."

"Oh," said Ginny. "I guess he's out, then."

"He could have given it to somebody else to do it!" Harry insisted. "Crabbe, or Goyle!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Those half-wits?" she scoffed. "I wouldn't trust them to execute a simple levitation charm, let alone _Imperius_ a seventh-year honor student. No, Harry, I'm sorry, but Ron and Hermione have a point."

Harry turned away from her, sinking down into his funk again. "Oh, come on," she teased him. "It wasn't a bad idea. It's just impossible. Will Katie be all right?"

Harry nodded. "They think she will be," he said. "She only touched a tiny bit of the necklace. It may be awhile before she gets back, though."

They fell into a silence, Ginny's thoughts straying to Katie as she chewed. It took so little sometimes to put things in perspective, and her own tragedies of just hours before suddenly seemed trifling by comparison. In spite of everything she had just learned, Ginny could not help but to chuckle. Harry looked at her, confused. "What's so funny?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing, really. Just can't believe I thought you thought Malfoy had given Katie a necklace as a gift. Malfoy cursing Katie makes more sense than Malfoy fancying Katie."

A small smile played on Harry's lips as well. "I don't imagine that a Gryffindor Quidditch player is Malfoy's type."

"I should hope not!" Ginny shuddered. "Ugh, can you imagine? Dating Malfoy?"

"I can not," said Harry with a smile.

"Good," smiled Ginny. "Neither can I. I can think of nobody whom I would ever find more repulsive, frankly."

"Good," repeated Harry, with an approving nod.

"Oh, really?" she cast Harry a teasing glance. "Jealous, Potter?"

"Hardly," he scoffed. "I'm just a bit protective of my best mate's sister, that's all."

"So you'd let Hermione date Malfoy?"

Harry shook his head. "I can't decide," he said thoughtfully, "what's more of an unnatural, awful, detestable, doomed-to-failure pairing: Malfoy and you, or Malfoy and Hermione."

"The only question," agreed Ginny, "is which of us would kill him faster."

Harry laughed, and then gave her a sideways glance. "Ah… speaking of dates," he began, growing only a bit red as he did so, "how was yours? With Dean?" With a groan, Ginny buried her head in her hands. "Wow, that good?" Harry asked. "What happened?"

"It's all my fault," Ginny said aloud, realizing as she said it that it was, it truly was. Merlin, she was going to have to go find Dean and apologize, wasn't she? "Dean took me to Madam Puddifoot's."

"Oh, no."

"You've been?"

"I have. With Cho." Harry gave her a wry smile. "It did not go well."

"Couldn't have gone as badly as my date," Ginny replied, closing her eyes in embarrassment.

"How badly could it have gone?"

"How badly?" repeated Ginny. "How badly? I'll tell you how badly. I fell asleep."

Harry just stared at her for a moment, as though not understanding what she had said. "You… you fell asleep?"

"Yes," she grumbled. He didn't have to rub it in…

"Really?"

"Yes!"

Harry chuckled. Just a bit. Then a bit more, and a bit more, and a bit more, until he was fairly roaring with laughter. Ginny thought she had never seen him laugh quite so hard, and it was infectious. Within moments, unable to help herself, she had joined in with him, and the two of them sat there for a full minute, laughing as hard as they were able, drawing more than a few stares.

"How… how did you manage that?" Harry finally asked as the laughter subsided into giggles.

"It's so warm in there!" Ginny protested. "And the steam, and the vapors, not to mention I barely slept last night."

"Maybe he didn't notice," Harry offered as he dug back into his tart.

"Oh, he noticed," Ginny retorted. "He'd very well have to, as it happened mid-kiss."

Harry choked on his tart at this, and it took several hard whacks on the back before he was able to speak again. "It didn't!" he said in astonishment, looking as though he may explode with laughter again.

"It most certainly did," said Ginny, unable to keep from smiling at the absurdity of it all.

"Poor Dean. No offense."

"No, poor Dean is right," Ginny agreed. "I completely understand him being out of sorts, much as I hate that dreadful place and can't imagine anyone in their right mind choosing to go there."

"I agree," Harry said with a nod.

"So. What about you?" Ginny asked, taking a forkful of chicken. "What was your terrible Madam Puddifoot experience?"

Harry snorted. "I'd rather not relive it," he replied.

"Unfair!" Ginny protested. "I told you mine!"

"True enough," agreed Harry with a smile. "All right, how's this? We talked about Quidditch first…"

"No problem there," Ginny cut in. "I do hope Dean realizes quickly he's dating a girl who'd rather spend the day in Quality Quidditch Supplies as opposed to Madam Puddifoot's. So what happened after the Quidditch conversation?"

"Well, we really didn't have much to say to each other," Harry said with a shrug. "It's tough to remember, exactly. There were lots of, just, awkward silences, and I think we talked a bit about how awful Umbridge was…" he paused, then took a deep breath. "And then I told her I had to go meet Hermione and I asked her to come along."

Ginny was confused. "Hermione needed to meet you? On the day you were going out with Cho? Why?"

"That's when I did the interview for 'The Quibbler'. With Rita Skeeter. Hermione set that up."

"Oh!" said Ginny, with a nod of realization. "That makes sense. All right. So when did things go wrong with Cho? Or did I miss something?"

"It started there," Harry replied. "Cho thought I was meeting Hermione for a date."

"You and Hermione?" asked Ginny, stunned. "She thought you were going on a date with Hermione? That's… I mean, that's… well, the girl is just delusional. No other word for it. Delusional. How could anyone think that?"

"Dunno," shrugged Harry. "That wasn't the end of it, though."

"No? What was?"

"She asked about Cedric," he said matter-of-factly, studying the last few bites of tart left on his plate. "She wanted to know if he had mentioned her before he died."

That sat in the air for a moment. Finally, Ginny muttered, "Wow. Bad form, Cho Chang."

"I don't know," said Harry, looking to her. "I still think your Madam Puddifoot experience was probably worse."

Ginny shook her head slowly. "I wish it had been. But I don't think it was."

For a minute or two, they sat there together, she eating her dinner and he finishing his dessert, neither of them saying a word. Eventually, Harry looked at her. "So why didn't you sleep last night?"

"I had a nightmare," said Ginny simply.

"The Chamber?"

"Yep."

Harry nodded as though he understood, which, she realized, he likely did. Together they sat in silence, she finishing her dinner and he his dessert. As she glanced at Harry and he at her, a knowing smile and nod shared between them, she realized with great surprise that this particular silence was not awkward at all.


	12. Chapter 11: Joy

"I don't know what it is, exactly. There's just something about him that seems a bit off," Ginny said as she and Luna headed for the exit of the Great Hall one day a few weeks later after breakfast.

"I think," Luna said airily, tucking her wand behind her ear they walked, "that seeming off and being off are two very different things. There seemed to be something very off about you in our first year, but as it turns out you're quite nearly normal."

Ginny grinned. "Thanks for that," she told her friend. "And I had an excuse. I doubt very much if Professor Slughorn is being haunted by the ghost of Tom Riddle."

"Oh, you never know about such things," Luna warned.

"It's probably nothing," Ginny shrugged. "It isn't as though the man doesn't know his potions. I've already learned loads more in his class than I ever learned in Snape's."

"Likely that's because Professor Slughorn isn't irritated by the sight of you," Luna opined. It had long been Luna's belief, and it had never quite made sense to Ginny, that there was something specific about Ginny, something aside from her surname and Gryffindor status, that agitated Snape, though Ginny wasn't as certain of it. Luna believed a lot of things, after all.

"Whatever the reason," Ginny continued as they crossed into the Entrance Hall, "I have to admit, the man is very well connected. At his last Slug Club meeting, he introduced us to -"

"Oi!" shouted a voice from the door they had just passed to. Ginny didn't even need to look. "Can I help you, Ronald?" she answered as she turned back to her brother.

"You poor little fifth years off to class, then?" Ron asked, striding towards them with Hermione and Harry following close behind.

"Manners, Ron!" chided Hermione. "They were talking. Don't interrupt!"

"It's all right," said Luna. "We were just talking about Professor Slughorn. We think he seems a bit odd, don't you?"

"That's ironic," muttered Harry. Ginny grinned.

"Oh, your new favorite teacher?" Ron said, turning to Ginny.

"Just because he introduced me to my all-time idol doesn't mean he's my new favorite teacher!"

"Who's that?" asked a confused Hermione.

"Gwenog Jones," said Harry. "Remember? At the last Slug Club meeting?"

"Ginny's only mentioned it about five-hundred times," Ron said, rolling his eyes with his usual disdain towards all things Slug.

"Oh, posh, Ron," Ginny said, sticking her tongue out at him. "If you ever met Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle, you wouldn't be able to shut up about it."

"Well, he's dead funny, he is!" Ron said. Turning to Harry, he asked, "He's not real, is he?"

"No, Ron," huffed Hermione. "For the last time, he's not real!"

"Didn't ask you."

"Anyway, I got her autograph and everything!" Ginny defended herself. "She's only been my favorite player for ages! What do you expect me to do, shut up about it?"

"I didn't care for her," Hermione offered.

"Shows what you know about Quidditch," Ginny offered in return. "And it at least proves the Slug Club is good for something, however little. Now did you want something, Ron? Some of us would like to get to class."

"Nah, I was just going to take the mickey out of you because you have class and we have a free period," Ron said with a shrug. "Nothing important."

"Shove off, Ron," Ginny shot at him. "I know you have a free period. Dean and Seamus are spending it doing the essay for McGonagall that they didn't do all week. It's why they didn't come down to breakfast."

At this, Ron's face grew pale. "Blimey! The essay! I forgot!"

"Ronald!" cried Hermione. "I reminded you three times!"

"I know," Ron said in a panic. "But you say so many things I just don't listen sometimes!"

"You really shouldn't talk like that to her when you're going to ask to copy her essay," Harry suggested.

Hermione spun to face Ron. "No!" she warned with a raised finger before he could ask.

"Please, Hermione?" Ron fairly begged. "I'll make it up to you!"

"And how will you possibly do that?"

"I have no idea. Please?"

Hermione folded her arms and took a deep sigh. "Fine," she acquiesced. "Come on."

"You are fantastic, Hermione, I love you!" With that, Ron turned and hurried down the hall back towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Yes, well, you know, that isn't necessary," Hermione muttered as she turned several deep shades of red. Without looking at any of the others, she quickly turned and headed down the hall after Ron.

Ginny, Harry, and Luna watched them go. "What is up with the pair of them?" Ginny wondered. "They've been unnervingly polite to each other lately."

"Didn't I tell you?" Harry asked. "Two weeks ago, in Herbology, something odd happened with them. I think…" he stopped, glancing at Luna.

"Oh, it's all right," Luna said earnestly. "I'll pretend I can't hear you." And with that, she put her hands over her ears and began humming a tuneless tune.

"Er… right. Thanks," said Harry, turning back to Ginny. "Anyway, we were wrestling a Snargaluff trunk…" He stopped again, shaking his head. "You know, I sometimes can't believe the words I've learned since I found out I was a wizard."

"What about them?" Ginny asked defensively. "'Snargaluff' is no stranger a word than 'McNugget'."

"I should never have told you about fast food."

"Would you get on with it, please?"

"So in between bouts with the tree trunk," Harry continued, "Hermione began talking about the Slug Club Christmas party, and Ron got all Ron and said she should ask McLaggen, and she got all Hermione and said she was going to invite Ron but would ask Mclaggen if that's what he thought she should do, and then he got very quiet and said he wouldn't like that, then they kind of stared at each other for a moment…" He shook his head. "Then they seemed to remember I was there and dropped the whole thing. Haven't mentioned it again since, but they've been annoyingly nice to each other."

"Like after the dodgeball incident?"

"Exactly."

"So did she ask Ron to the party or not?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"Those two. Ridiculous. Luna, you can stop pretending you're not listening now."

"All right," said Luna cheerfully, pulling her hands off of her ears. Clearly, she had no trouble hearing them.

"You'd better hurry," Ginny told Harry, "if you want to copy Hermione's essay, too."

"No," he shook his head. "Did it last night. I mean," he corrected himself as Ginny laughed, "I did the essay last night, not that I copied it from Hermione last… oh, forget it. Listen, I have to ask you a question."

"We're going to be late for class," Ginny said.

"You could walk with us," Luna suggested.

"Oh. Sure," Harry said, and they headed off. "Where are we going?"

"Charms," answered Ginny.

"It's Ginny's best subject," Luna chimed in.

"It's Ginny's only good subject," Ginny corrected.

"I doubt that," Harry said with a grin. "But anyway, listen, I wanted to ask you about Dean."

Ginny threw him a sideways glance. "What about Dean?"

"It's just that… wait, are things all right with you two? I mean…" And he stopped again, throwing Luna another look. She simply smiled and put her hands back over her ears as they walked.

"I haven't spoken to you about him since Madam Puddifoot's,"

"Oh, that," said Ginny. "Things are fine, mostly. I mean, they're a little awkward, but…"

"How on Earth," Harry wondered, "did you ever get him over that?"

"Snogging, mostly," Ginny replied with a shrug.

"Right," Harry said quickly. "Got it. Makes sense. You can take your hands down now, Luna."

"All right, Harry!"

Ginny was watching Harry peculiarly. She could swear he was blushing a little bit… but it was probably only her imagination. "What did you need to ask about him?"

"Katie's still at St. Mungo's," Harry answered. "I've put if off for as long as I can, but even if she gets back tomorrow, she won't be ready for Saturday's match. Dean's the next best Chaser in Gryffindor. You think he'll want to play on short notice?"

"Absolutely!" Ginny said eagerly. "Harry, he'll be thrilled!"

"You don't think he's still sore about not being asked to join the team right off, do you?" Harry asked as they stopped in front of Professor Flitwick's classroom. Ginny waved him off.

"He'll get over that in a heartbeat," she assured Harry. "When are you going to ask him?"

"I guess I'll go back to the Common Room and do it now..."

Ginny shook her head. "Wait until he's done with the essay, or he'll never be able to concentrate."

"Fine," Harry said, nodding. "Next period, then. Transfiguration."

"Perfect!" said Ginny. "Just don't tell him you told me first."

"Oh, right," Harry realized. "I suppose he'll want to be the one to tell you. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Ginny assured him. "Mum's the word. And Luna didn't hear anything."

"I didn't!" agreed Luna brightly.

"Brilliant," said Harry, backing down the hall. "See you two later. Thanks, Gin!"

"That's nice of him to ask Dean," Luna said, watching Harry go. "Particularly as he doesn't much care for Dean."

Ginny gave her a puzzled look. "Since when? Harry likes Dean fine. Why wouldn't he?"

"He does?" asked Luna, equally as surprised. "Oh, maybe he doesn't know it yet." Peering at Ginny closely, she added, "Oh, maybe YOU don't know it yet!"

Ginny was completely lost. "Know what?" she asked.

"Never mind," Luna replied. "Class is starting." And with a flick of her wrist, she flipped her wand off of her ear and marched into the room. Ginny followed, shaking her head. She was used to Luna, and could usually translate her, but that last had been difficult even for her to follow.

As she sat in Charms, her mind drifted off to Quidditch, as usual. She had been wondering what Harry would do about Katie's spot, as it had been becoming clearer by the day that she would not return in time to play against Slytherin on Saturday. Secretly, she been hoping he would ask Dean to join the squad, as things between she and him had been admittedly rocky since the Madam Puddifoot debacle, and as she still had lingering guilt over Demelza beating Dean out for the Chaser's spot at tryouts, she hoped that this would not only assuage that guilt but help the two of them move on from this rough patch they'd been going through the past few weeks. She hadn't said it to Harry, but there had been snogging, yes… but not much talking.

As soon as she reached the Great Hall for lunch, Dean ran up to her. "Gin!" he said giddily, "Guess what! I made the team! Harry asked me to replace Katie Bell!"

"Dean, that's marvelous!" Ginny squealed in a very un-Ginny-like voice. _Actress of the year, right here… _Dean picked her up and spun her around, planting her down and giving her a kiss.

"Mr. Thomas, Miss Weasley, that will be quite enough of that!" Professor McGonagall called from across the hall.

"Sorry, Professor," they answered in unison, then turning to sit. "Isn't this fantastic?" Dean went on, as he grabbed a sandwich off of the platter. "Now we can be on the team together."

"It is," Ginny said, and meant it. "I'm thrilled." A quick glance at Seamus told her, however, that he was not. She felt for him, but figured he'd soon get over it. Seamus wasn't the type of bloke to let most things stick. As Dean went on about Quidditch and strategies and what-not, Ginny snuck a peek at Harry down the table. Catching his eye, she gave him a quick "O.K." with her thumb and forefinger. He smiled at her and nodded, then returned to his conversation with Ron and Hermione. Ginny felt a wave of gratefulness and good will towards Harry wash over her. He surely didn't realize it, but putting Dean on the Quidditch team had probably saved her relationship.

She returned to her conversation with Dean, and they happily chatted away about the evening's coming practice. Yes, this would certainly help things work out for the two of them, no question about that.

"You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"

Nobody ever said her relationship with Ron was going to get any better, though.

Demelza held tightly to her bleeding lip, as Ginny sat next to her trying to get a better look. Ron, in his usual insecure, blundering way, had been flailing about like a dying Hippogriff at his Keeper post, and Demelza had made the mistake getting too close to him while attempting a score, receiving an inadvertent punch in the mouth for her effort.

"I can fix that," said Harry over Ginny's shoulder as he landed, pulling her gently back and pointing his wand at Demelza's lip. "_Episkey_", he said, and as soon as he did the cut began to heal itself and the swelling began to subside. "And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat, you're not the captain of this team -"

"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should -"

Harry tried to hide it, but he almost laughed, Ginny noted with smug satisfaction. "In the air, everyone," he said, mounting his broom with a smirk. "Let's go..."

As the rest of the team took off, Ginny helped Demelza to her feet. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Demelza said, wiping the blood and tears onto the sleeve of her robes. "Nobody ever said Quidditch was a gentle game." She took off as well, Ginny following, feeling angry at both Ron and herself. She had been concentrating her efforts on helping Dean get comfortable and ignored Demelza completely. She was senior member of the Gryffindor Chaser corps, and she scolded herself for not keeping a better eye on Demelza.

Still, as practice continued, and Dean gave her one of his undeniably charming grins as he zipped alongside of her... it was nice to have this to share with her boyfriend. Dean had been right, after all. Being on the team together was lovely.

If only the practice itself had gone even remotely well.

"Good work, everyone," said Harry in a stiff-upper-lip sort of way as Ginny, Dean, Demelza, Peakes, and Coote left the changing room. "I think we'll flatten Slytherin." As the door closed behind them, Ginny looked back and caught a glimpse of Harry turning to prop up a disconsolate Ron. _Good luck, Harry,_ she thought to herself. _You're going to need it._ If Ron played on Saturday as he did tonight, they may as well hand Slytherin the House Cup right now and be done with it.

She turned to Dean to say as much, but before she could speak, he said, "That went pretty well, don't you think?" Clamping her mouth shut, Ginny glanced around at the rest of the team. They were all watching her, anxiously, waiting to hear her take on their chances this weekend. At that moment, Ginny realized that none of them had ever played Quidditch in front the rest of the school before. If she told them what she really thought of the practice...

"It was brilliant," she lied with a smile. "We'll kill 'em." Peakes and Coote slapped hands, and Demelza grinned through an almost completely healed lip as Dean put his arm around Ginny's shoulders. She joined them in their good cheer, secretly aware that Harry was going to have to work some real magic on Ron for a rookie team like this to have a chance against Slytherin.

As they made their way up to the castle and towards Gryffindor Tower, Dean and Ginny slowly fell behind the younger students, whispering and laughing quietly to each other, just like a real boyfriend and girlfriend, Ginny realized. In the second floor corridor, suddenly and quite without warning, Dean pulled Ginny aside, pushing open a tapestry to reveal a darkened staircase that she knew was a shortcut back to the Fat Lady's portrait. She had a notion, though, that a shortcut was the last thing on Dean's mind. "What's this?" she said innocently, playing along.

"I'll show you," Dean grinned, offering his hand to help her through the secret entrance. Ginny ignored that most irritating of gestures, and instead smiled coyly and allowed herself to be guided through.

Once inside, the tapestry fell back to where it had been, plunging them into near total darkness. A faint flickering light came shining down the winding staircase; Ginny knew from experience that this was from a torch burning near the other entrance to the passage up above. "So," Ginny asked, "what's in here?"

"Absolutely nothing," Dean responded with a wicked grin, reaching for her in the near total darkness, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. She responded in kind, running her hand up to his face, reminding herself that, for all his imperfections... Merlin, her boyfriend did know how to kiss. It was never much more than a kiss, mind you, but... it was certainly a kiss. She simply could not deny that. The rest, the emotion, she assumed, would come later... as they grew closer, as their feelings grew stronger, etc., etc... but for now, the snogging itself would do.

A few minutes had passed, minutes which Ginny was thoroughly enjoying, when...

"Oi!"

Again, she did not need to look. She knew the voice. Dean quickly pulled away from her, startled and red-faced, and she turned to face Ron...

Only it wasn't just Ron standing there, holding the tapestry that hid the passage entrance up high. Of course it wasn't. It was Ron and Harry.

Harry.

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..._

She felt twelve again. She felt embarrassed. She felt ashamed. She felt as though somewhere, deep inside herself, she had betrayed something she did not even know existed. And she had no idea, no idea at all, why she suddenly felt all of these things when she saw the stunned look on Harry's face.

Rather than let her own sudden flurry of emotion betray her, she did not even let her gaze settle on Harry, and turned her focus to Ron. Ron, she could deal with.

"What?" she demanded, suddenly irrationally emotional.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!" Ron blustered back, his eyes popping out in consternation.

"This was a deserted corridor until you came butting in!" Ginny replied, willing herself to stay focused on Ron, ignoring Harry as best she could. Harry, standing quietly, still in shock...

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..._

"Er... c'mon, Ginny," said a voice over her shoulder, somewhere out of the distant past. She almost had to remind herself that it was Dean. "Let's go back to the common room..."

"You go!" Ginny said spinning back to him but not daring to look him in the eye, lest he see in her expression that she could barely remember his name. "I want a word with my dear brother!"

Whasisname took off, and Ginny spun back to Ron with such force that her long red hair flew around into her own face. She pushed it back to glare at her brother, careful still not to look at Harry.

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..._

"Right," she said, focusing all of her new-found emotion at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron-"

"Yeah, it is!" Ron said, returning her own anger and then some. "D'you think I want people saying my sister's a-"

"A what-" she shrieked at him, and suddenly her wand was in her hand and she wasn't sure how it got there. If he called her that in front of Harry...

_Harry, Harry, Harry..._

"A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny-" Harry began. Without thinking about it, she turned on him, as well.

"Oh yes he does!" she cried, and the moment she looked at him she felt a lump form in her throat. Desperate to break it up, desperate not to cry, she began to shout over it. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life," she babbled angrily, not even sure what she was saying, "just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel-"

"Shut your mouth!" Ron bellowed, though he seemed miles away now, too, just as Dean had. Ginny found her gaze glued to Harry, and she was in a near panic, hoping he wasn't judging her too harshly, _hoping he knew that the kiss with Dean had meant nothing, it was just a kiss, that was all... _with those terrifying thoughts flying forth unbidden from the back of her head, she turned desperately on Ron.

"No I will not!" she yelled back at him, beside herself, scrambling to maintain control of her unexpectedly wild state, clueless as to what she was even shouting anymore.. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

Ron drew his own wand, his face red and his expression wild. For a fleeting instant Ginny wished he would he hex her; her heart was screaming that she deserved it. But then Harry stepped between them, putting one hand on Ron's chest to push him back, resting his other on Ginny's shoulder, and as he did so a wave of euphoria ran up her arm.

_What in the bloody hell is going on happening to me?_

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron was roaring, pointing his wand in Ginny's direction. "Just because I don't do it in public-!."

"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you?" Ginny screamed at him, laughing wildly. "Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"

"You-" but the rest was cut off, as Ron thrust his wand under Harry's left arm and a flash of orange light flew from the tip, just missing Ginny's head.

"Don't be stupid," said Harry as he pushed Ron up against the wall, and for some reason Ginny flashed momentarily back to the Chamber of Secrets, and suddenly she was twelve years old and Harry was coming to her aid once more... but that memory meant nothing, she knew that, it never had, because...

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" she shouted at her brother, and that did it to her. Pushed her over the edge. Tears were on their way, and there was no stopping them, but she kept on. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

And with that, she stormed away, up the staircase, and towards Gryffindor Tower, her hand covering her mouth, desperately trying to hold the sobs at bay until she was out of earshot of Harry and Ron.

What had that been? What had happened? Why had... what had... she couldn't think straight. She couldn't see straight. She didn't know who she was or where she was going. All that kept replaying over and over in her mind was the tapestry flying up, and she turning from Whasisname, and Harry standing there, and Ron too, but Harry, with that look on his face... shock, revulsion, disgust, betrayal, (_betrayal?)_... what was that look? Why had he looked at her like that? Why had the thought of he and Cho almost driven her to tears? What was wrong with her?

She turned the corner to the Fat Lady's portrait, unsure if she could think clearly enough to remember the password... but she saw she wouldn't have to. Standing there, holding the door open for her, was the last person in the world she wanted to see at that moment. Dean and Seamus were laughing together, no doubt discussing what had happened just moments earlier...

_Why are they laughing? It's not funny!_

Of course it was funny. The look on Ron's face...

_What about the look on Harry's? Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..._

"Gin!"

Shaken out of her internal reverie, Ginny looked up. The laughter of the two boys had turned to looks of concern, presumably at the sight of her tear-streaked face. Seamus looked at Dean, looked at her, and then slunk back into the common room.

"Gin, are you all right?" Dean asked, suddenly concerned.

"I'm fine," she said.

_No, you are not._

"You don't look fine," he countered.

_Nothing gets past ol' Whasisname._

"I'm fine," Ginny insisted, not looking at him. She glanced over her shoulder; Ron and Harry were sure to be up soon, and she did not want to risk seeing them again. Especially Harry.

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..._

"But..."

"I'm going to bed," she said definitively. "I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning." And without allowing him another word in edgewise, she hurried into the common room and up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. She laid in bed just a short while later, her curtains drawn and her eyes wide open. She had no idea what had happened to her in that passageway tonight, but it had been utterly overwhelming and terrifying.

Most terrifying, though, and this was the part that she was refusing to acknowledge to herself... most terrifying was that somewhere deep inside of her, beneath all of the angst and unease and emotion that had quite suddenly and without warning welled up within her... somewhere beneath all that, she was almost certain she could detect a little bit of something that felt unmistakably like...

… joy.


	13. Chapter 12: The Mood Is Gone

The next morning, Ginny did not want to get out of bed. Behind the safety of her canopy, she could pretend that the evening before had been a dream and she had not utterly confused Dean, infuriated Ron, betrayed Hermione's secrets...

And been overcome by... something... at the look on Harry's face.

_Harry._

She closed her eyes and tried very hard not to let herself think of... him... like that. It had just been some emotional remnants, she tried to convince herself, some residual feelings left over from years and years ago, when she was still a little girl with a silly crush and Harry was the famous Boy-Who-Lived _who risked his life to climb down into the Chamber of Secrets and save her from certain..._

Clearly she was going to have to try harder, she realized, as she finally dragged herself out of bed to face the day.

Dean was easy, thankfully. A big smile and a good snog and he was convinced that she had slept off whatever it was that had been bothering her. Truth told, Dean thought they were lucky, as Ron coldly ignoring them seemed to be a small price to pay for having been "caught in the act", as he put it. "I don't think I'd be too keen to come across my sister snogging one of my best mates," he said at breakfast as Ron had stalked past them, pointedly not talking to them. "Frankly, it's the least we deserve."

Trouble was, it seemed that Ron was giving Hermione the cold shoulder as well, and she seemed utterly bewildered by his behavior. As Ron stomped out of the Hall and Hermione hurried to keep up with him, Harry tagged along behind them, looking for all the world like a bloke whose two best friends were not speaking with each other, again. As he passed, he glanced up, meeting Ginny's gaze, which had admittedly been locked on him. She smiled and gave him a small wave, but he only gave a slight nod back to her, quickly lowering his eyes and hurrying after his two arguing best friends.

_Brilliant, _Ginny glowered to herself. _Just bloody brilliant._

Ginny walked around for the rest of the day in a fog. _It's nothing, _she repeated to herself over and over. _It's nothing. You're past that. You have a lovely boyfriend, and you're not a child, and anyway Harry's not interested in you like that even if you were interested in him which you're not. You're his friend, and his best mate's little sister. _ She was focusing so hard on convincing herself of this that she burned a hole right through the bottom of her cauldron in Potions, which Slughorn repaired with a chortle and a wink, and she was reprimanded by McGonagall twice in Transfiguration. "Miss Weasley, I have already asked you once, do pay attention! Miss Lovegood has already Vanished the shell of her snail, and yours has only vanished over the side of your desk!"

"Sorry, Professor," said Ginny, quickly leaning over and scooping up her runaway snail.

"If I've seen it once I've seen it a hundred times," McGonagall muttered as she walked away. "A perfectly competent student driven to absolute distraction by silly baubles and love poems..."

"I'm not in love with him!" Ginny blurted out.

Tittering and whispering filled the classroom. Ginny felt her face grow red as McGonagall turned back to her, the corner of her mouth turned ever-so-slightly up. "In that case," she replied, "I will expect for you and Mr. Thomas to make less a spectacle of yourselves at the breakfast table."

With that, the whole class erupted into laughter. Ginny had never imagined she'd be so grateful to have a snail in front of her on which to turn all of her focus. "You were talking about Dean?" Luna whispered, but Ginny ignored her. "_Evanesco_", she muttered, tapping the snail with her wand, wondering idly if she'd be able to use the spell on herself.

By the end of the day she was utterly exhausted. She sat in the Gryffindor Common Room with Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender, not really paying attention to the conversation. Across the room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were doing homework; Ginny watched as Hermione tentatively asked Ron a question, only to have him blatantly and purposely raise a scroll of parchment up between the two of them, blocking her from view. "Fine!" Hermione shouted, drawing the attention of the room. "Do me a favor, if it isn't too much trouble, Ronald. Tomorrow, see if you can't remember how to be a civilized human being!" And with that, she stormed off and up to the girl's dormitory.

Silence hung uneasily in the room. Ron slammed his own book to the table, and stalked towards the boy's dormitory. "Mind your own bloody business!" he barked at a group of first years who had been staring at him... and then he was gone.

"I get why he's mad at us," Dean said in amazement. "But what'd Hermione do?"

Lavender leaned forward eagerly. "Did he and Hermione have a row, Ginny?"

Ginny was looking at where her brother and friend had just been sitting; conveniently enough, Harry was still there. He glanced up and saw her staring; again, she smiled, and again, his eyes grew wide and he quickly looked back down at his work as the mood in the room returned to normal.

"Ginny!" Lavender was saying. "Did they fight?"

Ginny just shook her head and stood up. "I'm going to bed, too," she said. "It's been a long day." And with that, she turned and went up to her own dormitory. Tomorrow, perhaps, things would get better, and she wouldn't be so distracted.

She was, of course. Things did not get any better the next day, either, or the day after that. Ron was still ignoring Hermione, and still mad at Ginny and Dean; Ginny, for her part, could barely bring herself to speak to Hermione as well, so guilty did she feel for telling Ron about Hermione and Krum. Dean, bless him, seemed oblivious to everything that was going on.

Worst of all, Harry was still so embarrassed or disgusted or whatever-he-was about the whole catching-she-and-Dean-thrashing-around-like-dying-fish incident, he could still barely look her in the face. Every time she thought about it, which was far more often than she really wanted to, she absolutely wanted to kick herself for not realizing that OF COURSE Harry and Ron would take that secret passage. Aside from Fred and George and she, who knew the passages in the castle better than Harry, Ron, and Hermione? Why had she let her stupid bloody boyfriend drag her into that passageway when she should have known, SHOULD HAVE KNOWN, that Harry would be there momentarily? And WHY DID SHE CARE SO MUCH?

_I could tell you that, dearie, but you just won't listen..._

She didn't know what she disliked most about the voice-in-the-back-of-her-head: the fact that it popped up whenever she least wanted it to, or the fact that it was starting to sound more and more like the Fat Lady in the portrait guarding Gryffindor Tower.

And the ramification Ginny didn't even think of was how the whole thing could effect that Saturday's Quidditch match. At least, she didn't think of it until the practice the evening before the game, where Ron, still raging mad at apparently the entire world, screamed and howled at everyone on the team, reducing Demelza to tears and almost getting into a fight with Peakes. Harry pulled them apart just in time, as Ginny was about to get into a whole lot of trouble for hexing her brother right there on the pitch.

As Harry stayed behind to give Ron yet another pep talk, the rest of the team trudged back towards Gryffindor Tower, spirits low. "Don't listen to him," Ginny told Demelza, who was still sniffling. "Listen to Harry; he said you played well tonight and you did." Demelza smiled and nodded, but her eyes were still red.

"You were great, Demelza!" Peakes said earnestly, his eyes beaming at her, clearly carrying a torch. In spite of everything, Ginny had to smile. "Ginny's right; don't listen to that prat!" Then with a gasp, he looked at Ginny. "Sorry! I forgot he's your brother."

Ginny waved him off, though. "I'll never fault a man for speaking the truth."

"And thank you, Jimmy," Demelza said shyly, "for sticking up for me. It was... that was nice." Peakes blushed furiously, and Coote glanced at him with a grin.

"Honestly, it wouldn't have worked out well for Ron," Coote said. "First rule of Quidditch: don't pick a fight with the bloke with the bat."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "If you're going to fight in Quidditch, go for the Seeker first. They're usually the smallest player on the team, and least likely to know how to fight."

"Of course, on our team," Ginny reminded him coolly, "that means picking a fight with Harry Potter."

Everyone laughed. "Right," muttered Dean. "Maybe start with the Keeper, then." But Ginny wasn't listening. She was inwardly cursing herself, trying to stop the swooping that had begun in her stomach when she had said the words "Harry Potter".

By the time the team had reached the second floor corridor, Dean and Ginny had again fallen behind the others. Ahead of them, Ginny noticed that Peakes was now holding Demelza's hand. "Isn't that adorable?" she said to Dean, pointing it out.

"Yeah... yeah, sure," Dean said distractedly. Ginny looked at him curiously as he slowed down, waiting for the others to get even further ahead, and as they pulled away he casually walked over to the tapestry that hid the infamous secret passageway from days earlier and, pulling it up, looked back to Ginny with a grin.

"Are you joking?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Ron and Harry..." _swoop... _"are likely right behind us again."

"Oh, right," Dean said, lowering the tapestry. "I s'pose we don't want Ron, ah, walking in on us a second time, do we?"

"Yes," Ginny said mechanically. "Ron. That's the problem." She turned and began to walk swiftly after the others. She suddenly found the idea of being alone in the corridors with Dean to be... distasteful, and she was furious at herself for feeling that way.

If Dean noticed, he didn't let on. "There are other secret passageways, you know," he suggested hopefully as he hurried to keep up with his girlfriend.

Ginny did not break stride. "Dean, we have a big match tomorrow, and I'm exhausted," she said. "Let's just go up to the Common Room, all right?"

"Right," Dean muttered, thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Fine." They walked the rest of the way to the Common Room in silence, and once there sat with the team for the rest of the night, each of them grumbling about Ron in turn. If she had been listening, and if she had not been so annoyed at Ron herself, Ginny might have been offended, but try as she might her mind kept wandering, and after the third time Dean had to nudge her to answer a question that she simply hadn't heard someone ask her, she excused herself and went to bed, again pleading exhaustion.

She slept fitfully that night, plagued by dreams of Ron chasing her around with a beater's bat as Harry looked on in disgust, while Demelza and Peakes kept sneaking off to hide behind a tapestry. Dean, surprisingly, did not make an appearance. When she woke up early the next morning, she decided that she almost preferred her regular nightmares to that bit of nonsense, even with their recent addition of a crying Fawkes that she still could make no sense of. Not hungry and still in the same haze she'd been in since Harry and Ron had barged in on she and Dean, Ginny wandered aimlessly around the halls of the castle rather than head to breakfast. Lost in her thoughts, inwardly chastising herself for not only being so bothered by such a stupid thing, but also for not having been able to have a normal conversation with Harry since it had happened, she lost track of time and did not realize where she was until she happened to glance up at the nearest tapestry, and her eyes met those of Barnabas the Barmy, forever attempting to teach trolls to dance.

That meant... she was outside the Room of Requirement, which was on the seventh floor... which was about as far from the Quidditch Pitch as one could get in the castle without climbing up the Astronomy Tower. Ginny swore to herself; she had become so engrossed in her own little world that she hadn't realized how close to the start of the match it was. Fortunately, she knew all the castle's shortcuts. She hurried down the corridor towards a stairwell she knew was hidden behind a suit of armor, and as she rounded the corner she ran smack into Draco Malfoy.

She stumbled back, as did Malfoy, but Ginny still had enough presence of mind to pull her wand. So did he. "What are you doing here?" they both demanded.

Ginny answered first. "Heading to the match," she replied.

"Funny, I don't remember Gryffindor Tower being up here," Draco sneered.

"Is it any of your business if I'm going for a walk?" Ginny replied. "What about you? The pitch isn't this way, you know."

"I'm not playing; lucky you," Malfoy said with a scowl.

"You're not playing?" Ginny asked, eyes widening in genuine surprise. "Why not? Who's playing Seeker?"

"I'm sick, not that it's any of your business." Ginny peered at him closely. Now that he mentioned it, he did look rather pale and drawn, and even slimier than usual. Malfoy went on, "Harper's playing in my place."

"Harper?" Ginny grinned; suddenly Gryffindor's chances had improved exponentially. "But Harper's an idiot."

"I wouldn't call names if I were you, blood traitor," Malfoy said threateningly, but Ginny simply snorted in derision.

"Right," she spat at him. "Like I'd be scared of the likes of you, Malfoy, some third-rate Death Eater wannabe."

Malfoy's face went red, and he hoisted his wand even higher; Ginny lifted hers in response. "You don't know who you're dealing with, Weaselette!" Malfoy hissed.

"I'm terrified," Ginny replied. "Seriously." She then noticed for the first time, cowering behind Draco, a first-year Slytherin girl. "Who's that, Malfoy?" Ginny asked. "Your new girlfriend?"

As if the realization that there was another person in the hallway had shaken him back to his senses, Draco lowered his wand. "Maybe she is," he said, a sickening smile crossing his lips. "I could do worse. I could be hopelessly in love with Harry Potter."

It was Ginny's turn to grow red. She met Malfoy's gaze, her wand still raised, refusing to be the one to break. He held that sycophantic smile for just a moment longer, and then broke away, brushing past her and slinking down the hall, the small girl following behind as fast as her far shorter legs could carry her. "Where are you going?" Ginny demanded, spinning around and tracking him with her wand.

"Don't you listen? I'm sick. I'm going to the Hospital Wing." He turned to look at her. "Vaisey isn't playing either. Took a Bludger to the head at yesterday's practice. Still sore. Looks like Gryffindor gets a freebie today... if that loser brother of yours can actually stop a goal or two." With that, he was gone around the corner, the girl with him. For a moment, Ginny was tempted to follow him, but taking note of the height of the sun in the sky through the window, she realized that at this rate she might actually miss the whistle, and she ran towards the nearest secret passage.

Ginny tore through the lower levels of the castle, her mind spinning. Malfoy was on the seventh floor... heading to the hospital wing on the third floor... coming, presumably, from the Slytherin dungeon... something didn't make sense... but, she rationalized, the layout of Hogwarts was not famous for its order and logic, and things did tend to move around a bit, particularly on weekends, AND there was a passageway on seven that would take you down to three, not far from the hospital wing... and Malfoy DID look sick...

Her suspicions lasted until she ran outside of the castle and into the fresh air, which served to quickly drive her thoughts from Malfoy to the game at hand. The mild conditions, the crisp but not unpleasant breeze, the pale blue sky unencumbered by clouds... in short, perfect Quidditch conditions, and traditionally Slytherin played a better game in adverse conditions, not such ideal ones. And if what Malfoy said was true about he and Vaisey not playing...

As Ginny ducked into the structure underneath the stands that housed the team changing rooms, she checked the line-ups for the teams that Madam Hooch posted before each game, and lo and behold, Malfoy and Vaisey's names were both scratched out. Ginny's spirits rose considerably; this combined with the weather were unimaginably lucky breaks for Gryffindor! She sprinted the remainder of the way to the changing rooms, her wonderings about Malfoy being up on the seventh floor all but forgotten next to the excitement of Quidditch.

As it turned out, she was not late; in fact, the only other team member in the changing room already was Demelza, although Harry and Ron arrived shortly after the two girls had changed into their robes.

"Conditions look ideal," she said to Harry with a grin, ignoring Ron (an act that she had decided would be mutual between them until he got his head out of his...). "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey – he took a Bludger to the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that – Malfoy's gone off sick!"

"What?" Harry said, spinning around from his locker where he had been settling his things. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"

"No idea," Ginny said with a shrug, "but it's great for us. They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."

Ginny turned back to her own locker as Harry and Ron huddled around theirs. She realized that, as brief of an exchange as that had been, it had been the first time she and Harry had actually had any sort of conversations since... well, since. Breathing a sigh of relief, she dared to hope that maybe she was finally over whatever foolishness had befallen her over the past few days, and the relationship between she and Harry, at least, could return to normal.

Finally, the whole team was assembled, and at the word from Madame Hooch, they walked onto the field to boisterous cheering from those in the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw sections. As Harry shook hands with the new Slytherin captain, Ginny turned to Demelza and Dean. "All ready, then?" she asked. Demelza gave her a curt nod; her grip on her broom was turning her knuckles white, but her face was set and determined. Dean, on the other hand, was bouncing and grinning, all nervous energy, his grip on his broom almost dangerously loose. "Focus," she said quietly to him. "Don't lose focus up there."

Dean nodded and tightened his grip. "Kiss for good luck?" he asked, leaning in. Ginny turned her head and offered her cheek, Dean left a brief and slightly disappointed kiss there, and then the whistle blew and they were off!

The truth was that Quidditch was not a game for everyone. It was a physically exhausting game, and the matches could sometimes last hours. Many wizards and witches took the sport for granted, and didn't realize just how difficult it was, balancing at high speeds and making tight turns on broomsticks, turns that most broomsticks simply were not designed for... getting assaulted by the Bludgers, relentless in their pursuit, never tiring... and of course, simply put, the height at which it was played. Most didn't even factor that into the equation until they were up on their broom, the Quaffle and Bludgers and Snitch all zipping around their heads. Many of the most talented wizards and witches in the world couldn't have played a decent match of Quidditch if their lives depended on it, nor would they want to.

Ginny was not one of those wizards or witches.

All of the challenges of the sport, each and every one of them, the impacts with the Bludgers, trying to keep three moves ahead of the Quaffle, the off-balance scoring structure, the heights... she loved all of it. She loved the wind in her eyes, the burst of speed before attempting a shot-on-goal, the abrupt endings when the Snitch was caught seconds into the match.

The only thing she disliked about Quidditch, really, was practicing for so long and so hard, and having so few actual matches throughout the course of the school year, because what Ginny loved most about Quidditch were those matches. There was a different edge to a match, a different level she felt her consciousness rise to when compared to simply participating in a practice or scrimmage. She hadn't known it until recently, but that edge had a name, and it was "the zone".

She had only been aware of it peripherally, of the ability to fall into the zone and tune out everything but the game, until she had met Gwenog Jones at the last meeting of the Slug Club. Gwenog had told her that, yes, she experienced what Ginny was describing, and falling into the zone was not only common among professional Quidditch players but nearly essential, considering the speed and intensity with which the pros played the game. What had surprised Ginny the most was when Gwenog had told her that the zone had nothing to do with magic, and that many Muggle athletes who performed at high levels spoke of it as well. Ginny had told the older professional that nobody else on the student teams seemed to understand what she was talking about when she described it to them, so she had stopped describing it. Gwenog simply smiled and nodded, and said: "When I was a student at Hogwarts, I found the same thing to be true. Maybe I ought to come see you play sometime."

In the days leading up to the match, Ginny had wondered if Gwenog Jones would be there. Now that the match was underway, it was the furthest thing from her mind. She was in the zone.

She had not gotten to the Quaffle on release, and she swore violently at herself for it. She was almost certain that one of the Slytherins had kicked off a split second early, but knowing the tendencies of your opponent was part of the game, and the Slytherins certainly had a tendency to cheat, so there was no excuse for not being prepared for it. As the Gryffindor Chasers picked up pursuit and the Slytherins ran interference, the Keepers high-tailed it to their ends of the pitch, the Beaters circled the Bludgers warily, and the Seekers rose into the air. Harry climbed to his usual altitude, which was absurdly high for a Seeker, but when you could accelerate with Harry's precision, Ginny knew it was a keen advantage to hold. As the early moves of the match played out across her consciousness, unfolding in her mind's eye like a flower blooming in high speed, her brain began to automatically map out what would potentially happen in the next ten, twenty, or thirty moments of the game.

In the back of her mind, a much-disliked voice intruded momentarily: "Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year..." Ginny simply could not believe that McGonagall would have allowed someone as utterly irritating as Zacharias Smith to replace Lee Jordan as the Quidditch announcer. As Smith began to drone on with some nonsense about Harry picking Ron as Keeper because of their friendship, Ginny tuned him out, making a mental note to hex him later.

The Slytherin Chasers were passing the Quaffle furiously, looking for a scoring lane that the Gryffindors were refusing to allow them. Demelza almost snatched it back for Gryffindor on one errant toss, but then a well-aimed Bludger cut Dean off from a defensive route and gave the Slytherin captain, Urquhart, a clear run on goal. Grimacing, Ginny accelerated towards him, but even as she did she knew she'd never make it in time. Urquhart was bearing down on Ron, deked right, deked left, took the shot... and Ron made it look easy, snagging the shot casually in one hand

The red and gold contingent of the crowd roared as Ron held the ball aloft, tossing it downfield towards his sister. Catching it, Ginny turned towards the Slytherin end of the pitch to a renewed roar of the crowd, Demelza and Dean flanking her on either side in a flying "V". Ginny allowed one quick "It wasn't your fault!" to Dean, his face clearly showing he was mad at himself for dropping the defensive route that had allowed Urquhart his opening.

At that moment, Harry dove in between them, scattering the Slytherin Chasers; Ginny could tell immediately he was either searching for the Snitch or faking a sighting, but hadn't actually seen it. His action, however, was enough to confuse Crabbe and Goyle, manning their usual Beaters positions, and they frantically aimed the Bludgers at Harry, giving the Ginny and her wingmen the split-second opening they needed to rocket downfield, passing the Quaffle amongst themselves. They came spiraling towards Bletchley, the poor Slytherin Chaser, who was now trying to block in three directions at once. When they reached the point-of-no-return, it was Ginny who had possession of the Quaffle, and with a simple flip of her wrist she lobbed it over Bletchley's shoulder and through the hoop. "That's one," she murmured to herself as the crowd cheered its approval.

Half an hour into the match, the score was sixty-to-zero in favor of Gryffindor, and Zacharias Smith has long since stopped taking shots at the Weasley siblings. Clearly whatever Harry had told Ron had worked, because her brother had been flawless at Keeper, and Ginny... well, she had forty of the sixty Gryffindor points to her credit, but she was annoyed at herself nevertheless for missing two other goals; she could well have scored sixty by now, and in her estimation she should have. She pressed herself harder, and within the next ten minutes she had scored two more times, with Dean and Demelza each adding one apiece, bringing the to score one hundred to zero in Gryffindor's favor. Ron had continued to make save after save, and his confidence was brimming to the point where he had conducted the crowd in a rousing chorus of "Weasley Is Our King", which was fairly obnoxious of him, Ginny thought, making a mental note to hex him later as well.

Ron had just made another save and tossed the Quaffle back to Ginny when she heard Dean, Peakes and Coote all cry out in protest. Glancing up, she saw Harper zipping upwards and away from Harry, who was righting himself, clearly having been rammed by the Slytherin Seeker. Harry took off after him, seemingly determined to ram him back, but Ginny was already speeding towards them Quaffle in hand, because she saw what Harry did not seem to: Harper had spotted the Snitch.

Split-seconds later, Harry bent low on his broom; now he had seen it. Still, Harper was ahead of him, closing in on the tiny golden ball quickly; fast as he was, Harry would never reach him in time. If Ginny could get in range, perhaps hurl the Quaffle at Harper... she'd be penalized for a foul, but the game would go on... as soon as the thought was hatched, however, she let it die, as it was clear she, also, would not reach him in time. She desperately urged her broom forward, pushing it to its limits.

And then, just when Harper's fingers were moments away from victory, Harry shouted something at him, something she couldn't make out. Whatever it was, though, it worked, as Harper turned around in surprise (such an idiot!) and immediately overflew the Snitch. Harry, however, did not, and with one sweep of his arm, snatched the ball out of the sky.

The crowd roared. Harry yelled "YES!" and quickly wheeled back around, spiraling to the ground amid the cheers of the students, minus Slytherin.

Ginny's momentum carried her above him, and as she took a lazier turn, she flew right past a dumbfounded Harper. "I'll bet you wish Malfoy had played now," she said to him, earning herself a foul look in return. With a grin, she pointed her broom back down... but not towards the Gryffindor team's celebratory scrum. Instead, she aimed her broom towards the commentator's podium, where Smith was droning on about the "clearly illegal distraction technique pulled by Gryffindor captain Harry Potter". He did not notice her until she was almost on top of him, at which point his eyes went wide and his face went white, his jaw dropping open in mid-sentence as Ginny swung the tail of her broom around, slamming into the podium in a hard power slide, taking the brunt of the impact with the resilient straw end of the broom and her shin guards.

Ginny nimbly hopped clear as the entire structure collapsed, pulling her broom away as Smith was covered in shattered and splintered wood. "Miss Weasley!" scolded Professor McGonagall, rushing forwards. "Miss Weasley, what on... what in the name of... what were you..."

"Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry," she quickly replied, hurrying towards the rest of her teammates. Glancing over her shoulder, she was almost certain that she saw the head of Gryffindor house fighting against a smile as she waved her wand and cleared the broken wood off of a sputtering Smith. Turning back to the team, Ginny launched herself into the arms of an approaching Dean.

Only it wasn't Dean. It was Harry.

She pulled away quickly, but not quickly enough. Her head was spinning. The rest of the world was blocked out, and it had nothing to do with "the zone". She raised her eyes to look at him... but he had already turned away and was slapping Ron vociferously on the back. She stood for a moment in a stupor, the game forgotten, the celebration falling away, her brain short circuiting, _wondering why Harry couldn't have lingered just a little longer with his hug..._

But then Dean actually was hugging her, and planting a kiss on her lips. She fell into autopilot and kissed him back, a smile falling easily across her face but her brain still sputtering as the team left the pitch arm in arm.

Back in the Common Room, Ginny stood in a corner with Dean, Parvati, Seamus, and Neville. Arnold sat contentedly on her shoulder and she was slowly sipping a Butterbeer. The butterflies had not left her stomach since Harry had hugged her on the pitch, and she silently swore to herself every thirty seconds or so. She had really thought the match would clear her head and snap her out of this haze in which she'd been wandering for the past few days, but now she felt as utterly at sea as ever... and watching half the girls in Gryffindor mob Harry didn't seem to be helping. Clearly Harry had hugged her in a simple, celebratory way, as was perfectly acceptable given their relationship both on the team and as friends, just friends, nothing else, nothing more than friends, only friends...

_For now..._

"Is that Butterbeer all right, Gin?" Dean asked. "You look like you've sipped rotten milk."

"Actually, I do think it's gone bad," Ginny said sourly. "I'm going to get a new one."

"I could get that..." Dean began, but Ginny quickly pulled away from him. She headed for the drinks table, grumbling to herself, willing herself to just enjoy herself and forget about everything... when she stopped short, seeing something that truly did turn her stomach. Off in the far corner of the room, next to the fireplace, Ron was in the process of mauling Lavender Brown, and it was difficult to tell where his lips ended and hers began.

"I don't believe it," she muttered. Annoyance rose up in her on many different levels. First off, it raised her temper that Ron had made such a scene over her own public display of affection just days ago, and that had certainly been more subtle than this mid-Common Room catastrophe. Secondly, and more importantly, she had held out the hope that her unfortunate spilling-of-the-beans of Hermione and Krum's indiscretions would drive Ron to finally make a move with Hermione, but it seemed her boneheaded brother had taken that impulse and run in completely the wrong way with it.

Her guilt rose, and she pushed it down. She refused to let this be entirely her fault; after all, it wasn't as though Hermione was making advances that Ron was ignoring. Honestly, if a girl liked a boy for that many years and did nothing about it, it was only her own fault if...

… but she hastily pushed that thought down as well, just as Harry ducked around a group of fourth year girls and right into her.

"Looking for Ron?" was the first thing that came into her head. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite." Harry turned, and his own face grew red at the spectacle Ron and Lavender were causing in the corner, though Ginny had the distinct impression it was more out of embarrassment than it was anger. "It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" she said distractedly, her eyes suddenly glued to the back of Harry's head. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow." Harry turned back to her, and the green of his eyes shocked her into the realization that she was still gaping. "Good game, Harry," she muttered, dropping her gaze and giving his arm an awkward pat. She tried to ignore the reinvigorated swooping in her stomach as she ducked away from him and hurried towards the Butterbeer.

She lingered at the drinks table for a few minutes, fighting to regain control of her constitution and emotions. Suddenly, she came to a decision. She grabbed a fresh bottle and pulled a long swig. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand she slammed the bottle back down on the table and marched back to Dean, grabbing him by the arm. "C'mon," she growled. "We're going to find a deserted classroom."

"Uh... why?" Dean asked, looking confused.

Ginny leaned closer to him and grinned wickedly. "Three guesses," she hissed. Seamus whooped appreciatively while Parvati elbowed him even though she was smiling herself. Neville, though, looked mightily embarrassed; Ginny tried not to feel badly about that. So focused on the task at hand was she that she only barely registered Lavender running past the two of them back into the Common Room as they climbed out the portrait hole, which seemed odd, as the last she had checked Lavender was already IN the Common Room, trying to suck her brother's face off.

She pulled Dean down the corridor, and the dopey grin on his face told her that he had guessed correctly. She marched them towards the nearest unlocked classroom, furiously not thinking about Harry, when the door of the room was pulled open and she heard Hermione scream, "_Oppugno!_" This was followed by what sounded like an entire flock of birds chirping and tweeting, and what seemed to be Ron screaming "Gerremoffme!"

Ginny and Dean looked at each other. "What the bloody hell is that?" Dean asked, but before she could hazard a guess, Hermione came running down the hallway from the classroom, her hair wilder than usual and tears streaming down her face.

"You tell Ron he can have the classroom," she sputtered at Ginny as she passed. "He and that... that... trollop!" And with that, she ran past them and through the portrait hole.

Ginny and Dean stood awkwardly in the hallway. Finally, Dean spoke. "Well," he said tentatively, "there are other classrooms..."

Ginny closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "I don't think so, Dean," she told him.

"But..."

"I don't think so." She kept her eyes closed. "I'm going back to the party."

"But..."

"Dean!" She sighed, and looked at him. Nothing. She sighed again. "The mood is gone," she told him sadly. With that, she turned away from him, reentering the party and ensconcing herself with Demelza, Natalie, Peakes, and the Creevys. She did not speak to Dean for the rest of the night.

But later on, well after midnight, she found herself, again, in the hallway outside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She did not go in. But this time she knew, somehow... she was not ready to. She just needed to be near whatever it was that was waiting for her inside. Just for a little while. The door no longer scared her. In fact, she now found it to be almost... comforting.

Life, she realized, no longer made any bloody sense whatsoever.


	14. Chapter 13: Loony

Christmas and the accompanying school holiday were fast approaching. The Great Hall had been decorated with its twelve trees, hand-delivered as usual by Hagrid, Peeves floated around empty classrooms singing festive and somewhat off-color songs, the everlasting candles had found their way into the visors of the suits of armor that lined the corridors, holly and tinsel and mistletoe were sprouting all about… and the fifth years found themselves hard-pressed to keep up with the increased workload placed upon them by professors attempting to cram every last bit of study they could into the waning days of the fall term.

Along with the usual holiday business and hullabaloo, there was an added buzz this year: Slughorn's Christmas party. Normally a party held by a professor would hold little interest to the student populace of Hogwarts, but as the venerable old School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had always been a bit lacking in the area of formal engagements, save the one Yule Ball in Ginny's third year, and given the rumor buzzing around that Slughorn was expecting a virtual Who's Who of the Wizarding World in attendance, the whispering among students in the days leading up to the party became more and more about who had been invited and who among Slughorn's famous acquaintances were expected to attend. This talk was accompanied by a more underground murmuring that covered the topics of what to do to those who had been invited and how best to go about crashing the party. More than one uninvited student had been researching Polyjuice Potion and eying those with invitations hungrily.

Ginny had been invited, of course, as an inaugural member of this year's Slug Club, and as she was allowed a guest, and as she was in a "serious" relationship, she would be taking Dean with her. She was not as excited about this prospect as she might have been. Things between she and Dean had grown frosty since she had turned him away (so to speak) after Gryffindor's Quidditch victory, and their conversations were growing sparse and non-specific. Ginny told herself that she was trying to keep the footing the relationship on solid ground, but the more she dug in the more she felt herself slipping away. It didn't help matters, of course, that she had to fight the urge to blush whenever she spoke to Harry, and that she became inexplicably cross whenever Harry spoke with a girl who was not Hermione, and that on more than one occasion she had woken from a dream with a start... but it was no longer Fawkes in her dreams; rather, Harry had begun to appear there in ways that made her very happy that Dean could not read minds. Nor Ron. Nor Hermione. Nor Harry, in particular.

So while most of Hogwarts buzzed happily about the term drawing to a close and the Slug Club party drawing near, Ginny watched the calendar count down the days until that evening in Slughorn's office with a growing sense of dread. She and Dean had done a fair job of surrounding themselves with friends and pretending they had not grown painfully awkward around one another, but none of those friends had been invited to the party, and it would be just Dean and she, there by themselves... it was not a situation she was looking forward to anymore.

_Clearly_, she thought to herself for about the millionth time, _I am the very definition of the worst girlfriend the world has ever known._

To top it off, among Hogwart's eligible young women the most exciting detail to gossip and debate regarding Slughorn's party was, who was Harry Potter going to bring? Whenever Ginny heard a new theory bandied about... ("Cho Chang! He never did get over her." "No, one of the Patil twins! They're gorgeous!" "I heard Pansy Parkinson, just to hack off Malfoy." "Don't be absurd; he's going to ask me." "I'll bet he is, Romilda!")... whenever one of these names were tossed about, particularly Romilda Vane, Ginny could feel her hackles rise and her mood darken, a reaction which only served to get her mad at herself because, after all, Harry was perfectly eligible, and allowed to bring to the party whomever he chose.

She, on the other hand, was not.

"It seems to me," she grumbled to Hermione as they sat in the library on the afternoon before the party, "that Harry has become the most eligible bachelor at Hogwarts practically overnight, wouldn't you say? I'd say he's becoming far too popular for his own good."

Hermione nodded. They had seen evidence of this just minutes earlier as they were leaving the common room, as a horde of insufferably silly girls gathered around Harry before he managed to slip out of the portrait hole on the heels of Ron and Lavender. "I've told him as such," Hermione agreed with Ginny. "If it's between you and I, he'd do well to ask someone to Slughorn's party, and soon. I imagine you've heard the same things I have in the girl's bathroom."

"What, Romilda Vane and her little followers talking about slipping him a love potion?" Ginny asked sourly. "It's come up."

"If he'd just ask somebody," Hermione said with a sigh. "But you know Harry. Indecisive to a fault, and when he does finally ask someone, it will be on a sudden impulse and he'll regret it immediately."

"Well, we can't have that!" Ginny said, a little too anxiously. "We can't let the Romilda Vanes of the world get their claws into Harry."

"Oh, I won't," Hermione assured her. She then looked at Ginny quizzically. "But why do you care… ?"

"It's just that I can't stand that girl," Ginny said defensively, hoping that she would not blush and give herself away. "I'd rather Harry go to the party with Snape."

"Would you?," Hermione replied thoughtfully, the gears clearly turning behind her eyes as she peered intently at Ginny.

Ginny quickly moved to change the subject. "Shouldn't you be worried about who you'll be bringing with you? Some of us have dates and can take the time to wonder about the dates of others." It was an unfair argument, Ginny knew, but as unenthusiastic as she was about it, she did have a date, and she simply could not let the topic rest on her interest in Harry's social life.

"That's true, I suppose," Hermione acquiesced as she turned back to the Arithmancy essay she was reading over for the third time. "And last I checked, your boyfriend appears to be in fairly high demand himself."

"Not recently," Ginny amended, and Hermione chuckled and nodded. It was true, Ginny knew. Dean had always attracted his share of attention from girls, and she had been the recent subject of more than one envious staredown in the girl's bathrooms. She had welcomed such looks before, reveling in the irritation she was causing in those who irritated her... but now part of her simply wished one of those jealous whisperers would go ahead and take Dean off of her hands, leaving her free to pursue... other pursuits.

"So who are you taking?" Ginny asked her older friend. Hermione responded with a sigh and a shrug.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I was going to take Ron, but…" she didn't need to finish. Ginny knew what she was talking about, and much to her annoyance her guilt about the current Ron and Lavender predicament poked up its head, although she was trying very hard not to (completely) blame herself for the misery Hermione was going through.

"I know," Ginny soothed. "He's a dunce. Just take the person you think would irritate Ron the most. That'll show him. Here's a thought: why don't you and Harry go to the party together? That way you'll have a date, Harry will have an excuse to ignore those other girls, and Ron will have a fit. Perfect all around!"

Hermione laughed but shook her head. "No, everyone knows we're only friends."

"Not Cho Chang," Ginny muttered under her breath, but Hermione didn't hear her.

"If he goes with me," Hermione continued, "it won't keep those girls away from him, and I really don't think it would annoy Ron. Well, maybe it would," she self-corrected. "But not enough. Besides, I wouldn't want to go annoying... other people… as well." And at this she threw a significant glance in Ginny's direction.

"Just what are you implying?" Ginny demanded, but Hermione had begun to sling her books into her pack, heading off to Arithmancy.

"See you later, Ginny!" she called over her shoulder as she left the table, and to her annoyance Ginny was certain the older girl was laughing, just a little bit.

"I have a boyfriend, you know." Ginny muttered, but not loudly enough for Hermione to hear as she had no confidence at all that it sounded the least bit convincing.

The topic of Harry's date did not come up again for the rest of the day nor into the following morning, although Ginny was certain that it was the secret topic of conversation among every clump of two or more girls she came across whispering in the common room, in the Great Hall, in the corridors, or before classes. Part of this belief, she realized, may have been the product of her own fevered imagination, but the realization of this likelihood did nothing to appease her.

Then again, the atmosphere of the school itself may have been lending itself to these thoughts. More than any year she could remember, students at Hogwarts this year seemed obsessed with dating and love and romance. It all seemed very silly to Ginny, to be honest. They were all still so young. How could any of them really know or understand what 'love' was?

Maybe it was in her head. Maybe it was just that she was older now and noticed these things more, or maybe it was just hormones. Or maybe it had to do with the state of the world these days. Darkness and war on the horizon could certainly bring people together, she would imagine. Why, her own parents had met at Hogwarts during the first war and fallen in love at a very young age, so she had to admit it was entirely possible, no matter how unlikely she thought it could be. Truth told, if she thought about it, it began to make more sense, as just about every student she knew had expressed some sort of romantic interest in somebody this year.

Everybody, that is, except for Harry. If only he'd give some sign, any sign, of who it was he fancied, as clearly there MUST be someone, even if only a little bit. If only he would... _And then just what exactly would you do about it?_ demanded the little voice in her head. Ginny had to admit she had no idea. And somewhere deep inside, in a corner of herself she was refusing to acknowledge, a tiny but powerful part of her was dying to find out.

The next day, the day of Slughorn's party, Ginny and Colin were hurrying down the corridor to McGonagall's classroom; the last thing she needed on the last day of class was a late detention from the Head of Gryffindor House. Just as she was about to step in the room with minutes to spare, she heard a voice ring out behind her:

"Loony Lovegood!"

Ginny stopped in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom, spinning 'round to see who had made the offending statement. She didn't know if she was angry or happy that it was a passing Romilda Vane, talking animatedly with one of her followers. Now, here was someone she could take some frustration out on! "Come with me," she hissed to Colin, and grabbing his arm she pushed back through the fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws lining up to get into class.

"Of all the people," Romilda was saying to her earnestly nodding friend as Ginny and a reluctant Colin approached, "of all the people he could have asked, he asks Loony Lovegood. Can you imagine, I mean can you imagine?"

"Romilda!" Ginny called out. Romilda turned around, looking puzzled. "Let's get this straight, as I'm only going to tell you once," Ginny said, in a well-practiced, quiet-yet-deadly voice. "Her name isn't Loony, it's..."

"Oh, good, a Weasley," Romilda said, cutting her off. "You lot know Harry well, right?"

"Um..." Ginny stammered, taken off her guard by the sudden change in subject. "Er, yes, I do... I mean, WE do, but I just came over to tell you not to call Luna..."

"Then maybe you can explain this to me," the other girl continued, and for the first time Ginny noticed that Romilda looked even more annoyed than she felt. "How is it that he clearly has the choice to take any girl in the school that he wants to Slughorn's party, any girl at all, including me, and out of everyone he goes and asks Loony Lovegood?"

"I said, don't call her..." Ginny stopped. Her brain caught up with her mouth. Her jaw dropped. "Wait... what did he do?"

"He asked Loony Lovegood to Slughorn's party. Tell me, is the boy touched in the head? Does he actually like her?"

"No!" Ginny replied, a little bit more quickly and loudly than she had actually intended to. "No, he doesn't! I mean, at least, I think he doesn't..."

"Because I can't figure it," Romilda dismissively sniffed. "I could understand if he asked that Hermione girl; they're inseparable, really, although the rumor is she's mad for your brother, although I don't suppose you know anything about that, either. Love is blind, I guess. It is just outrageous, simply outrageous..." And with that she continued on her way, railing against this unexpected turn of events.

Ginny stood frozen in her place. Luna? He asked Luna? But Harry didn't like Luna, did he? Well, of course he didn't, they were just going as friends, clearly. Clearly. Weren't they? After all, Luna was interesting, and very unique, and funny, and certainly pretty in her own fashion... Ginny was suddenly and painfully aware of all of her own faults, in light of this new information. She was too short, of course, and her hair wasn't blonde enough, and she didn't make up new interesting new words like "nargle" and "wrackspurt", and she was not patient enough, and she never held her wand behind her ear, and her father was not the editor of a shamelessly mad periodical, and... and...

"Ginny?" Ginny gasped; she had completely forgotten Colin was there. "You all right?" he asked, looking at her warily.

"Did you hear that?" Ginny said, still amazed. "Did you? Harry asked Luna to Slughorn's party. Luna!"

"I heard," Colin said cautiously.

"Romilda's right!" Ginny continued, her voice raising. "Have you seen all of those girls flocking around him? He could have gone to that party with any girl, any girl at all!"

"Well, not the ones with boyfriends," Colin pointed out.

"Any girl!" Ginny continued, now practically shouting, and drawing strange looks from the last few stragglers heading past them into McGonagall's classroom. "Any girl in the school, and who does he ask? Who? Loony Lovegood, that's who!"

There was a quiet intake of breath from behind Ginny. Colin's jaw dropped and he went pale. Ginny did not need three guesses to figure out who had come up behind her. "Luna," she said as she turned around, grimacing in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there, I..."

But the sight of her friend standing behind her, her protruding eyes wide open and her wand drooping sadly from behind her ear, silenced her. Luna looked strange, even for Luna. For the first time she could ever recall, Luna looked hurt.

"I don't understand," Luna said quietly, her round eyes watering up just a bit. "You don't call me Loony."

"I don't," Ginny hastily replied. "It was an accident. I didn't mean..." But with a quiet sniff, Luna moved quickly into the door of McGonagall's classroom. Ginny hurried after her, but Luna had already taken a seat next to one of Ginny's dorm mates, who looked rather annoyed to find Loony Lovegood sitting next to her.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Creevy, I am so glad you have finally decided to join us," rang out McGonagall's voice from the front of the classroom. "Do sit, won't you? If you have had your fill of the day's gossip, of course." Sheepishly, they did so, and Ginny settled in next to Colin for the longest Transfiguration lesson she had ever suffered through.

Luna did not look at Ginny throughout the entire class, and at the end of the period she jumped quickly up out of her seat and hurried towards the door. As Ginny and Colin had been forced to take seats in the front of the room, it took her several moments to push her way through her classmates to the hallway, and by then Luna was long gone. Having no other choice, Ginny headed to the western side of the castle and Ravenclaw Tower, but having never been there before even when dating Michael, she lost her way a few times before finally finding the spiral staircase on the fifth floor. She wound her way tightly up the staircase, hurrying so quickly she almost ran into the door to the Ravenclaw common room, a large solid slab of oak, with no hinges or rivets, and just a single bronze knocker in the middle, in the shape of an eagle.

Ginny hesitated for a moment, and then reached up to knock on the door. Her fingers were inches away when the eagle spoke in a soft voice, causing her to jump back several feet.

"What," said the eagle, "is the purpose of an individual life?"

Ginny stared blankly at the bronze bird for a moment. "Um... what?" she asked it, for lack of anything else to say.

"What," the knocker repeated, "is the purpose of an individual life?"

Ginny's brain finally caught up. "Do you mean I have to answer that?" she asked. "To get through the door? But I don't want to get through the door. I just need someone to come out of the door. Luna Lovegood. Could you tell her I'm here?"

The eagle did not reply. Ginny stared dumbly at it, realizing that as the Fat Lady would never open Gryffindor Tower to someone who didn't have the password, the eagle would likely not open the door for her unless she figured out an answer to the riddle. "The meaning of life?" Ginny said slowly. "Not asking too much, are you?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Happiness?" she ventured. Nothing. "Family?" Still nothing. She was already getting impatient. "Intelligence? Friendship? Love?" But the eagle did not budge. "Sunshine?" Ginny asked, not expecting to even come close now. "Oxygen? Quidditch? The five Principal Exemptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? The Goblin Revolution of 1678? Forty-two? I don't know, do I, you stupid bloody doorknob!" Completely exasperated, she drew her wand and pointed it squarely at the eagle. "Now open up already, or I'll hex you back into your bronze egg!"

The eagle, to put it mildly, seemed unimpressed. "Bloody Gryffindors," he sighed, and then grew silent and still.

"Problem, Ginny?"

Ginny spun around, startled. She had begun to hope that a Ravenclaw might show up to help her, but with her luck it did have to be these two: her ex, Michael Corner, and his current, Cho Chang, who had just spoken.

"Oh no," Ginny replied. "Everything's fine. I was just going."

Cho smiled at her. It came across to Ginny as exceptionally false. Michael just looked nervous. "It doesn't seem like it. Are you sure there's nothing you need?"

Ginny was about to assure her again that everything was fine and walk off, but then she thought about the look on Luna's face after she had overheard Ginny call her "Loony" and realized that she simply had to talk to her, pride be damned.

With a sigh, Ginny admitted, "Actually, maybe you could help. I need to speak to Luna, but I can't get the door to open, or this thing," (with a jerk of her thumb, she indicated the eagle, who grunted audibly at her in return), "to cooperate."

Michael stepped forward. "What's the question?" he asked the eagle.

Immediately the eagle replied, "What is the purpose of an individual life?"

Michael chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, clearly lost in thought. He actually was quite intelligent, and when he and Ginny had dated he was always game for a philosophical or intellectual debate. He did not, however, know anywhere near as much as he thought he knew about Quidditch.

Clearly, the relationship had been doomed from the start.

"The purpose of an individual life," Michael began thoughtfully, "is what the living individual in question decides that purpose should be, I would think."

"Eloquently phrased," replied the eagle, and without any other fuss, the big wooden door swung silently open.

"It's a trick question," Michael explained. "Defining the meaning of existence, in general, is next to impossible. But the meaning of life for one person, one individual..." He shrugged. "Well, that's almost too easy."

"My thoughts exactly," Ginny said dryly. "How are you, Michael?"

"I'm well," he said, his nervous air returning now that the conversation had moved away from the intellectual and back towards the social. "Yourself? You look... I mean, you look very pre..."

"Michael," Cho interrupted him. She no longer sounded quite so pleasant, Ginny noted. "Why not go get Luna from inside? Ginny's been waiting." With an awkward nod, Michael gave one last glance to Ginny, then hurried through the door. Cho turned to smile at the redhead. "So. How are you?"

"Fine, you?" muttered Ginny. The last person she wanted to be stuck in forced conversation with was Cho Chang. Fortunately, it seemed Cho felt much the same way.

"So I hear Luna's going to Slughorn's party with Harry," she said, cutting to the chase. "Is she?"

"You heard correctly," Ginny told her. Cho folded her arms and "humphed" a little bit, seemingly put out by that piece of information.

"You know," she said, peering at Ginny, "Harry and I went out once."

Ginny barely suppressed a smile, remembering Harry's tale of that debacle of a date. "I've heard the legend, yes," she replied, averting her eyes and her smirk.

Cho went on in a manner that suggested she was speaking more for her own benefit than she was for Ginny's. "I simply don't know what Harry sees in Loony Lovegood, of all people."

"Don't call her that," Ginny snapped at the other girl, even as her face warmed with her own embarrassment. "Look, it's no good getting jealous. It's not as though you didn't have a shot of your own with him." Her face was burning now, but her words had the desired effect, as a suddenly perturbed-looking Cho sulked into silence, stomping her way through the door to Ravenclaw Tower just as Luna came out.

"Hello, Cho," Luna airily said as the two girls passed, but Cho did not even acknowledge. "She's in quite a better mood than usual," Luna observed as she approached Ginny.

"I absolutely loathe that girl," Ginny muttered, watching the door swing shut and obscure Cho from view.

"Oh, she's not so bad," Luna observed airily. "So long as you're very careful to never, ever speak with her, she's quite nearly tolerable."

Ginny was about to voice her agreement, when she suddenly remembered her reason for being at Ravenclaw Tower. "Luna," she began, blushing again, "I'm so sorry. I should never have called you Loony. I never do that, you know that, I promise you."

Luna smiled. "I know," the blonde girl assured her. "I wasn't really upset, honestly. I was just trying 'upset' out to see what it felt like."

"Uh... what?" asked Ginny. Luna ignored her.

"Besides, I don't blame you for getting emotional. It's my own fault." At this, Luna took up Ginny's hand and looked her square in the eye. "Ginny, you can trust me: Harry and I are only going to Slughorn's party as friends." She held that gaze for a moment, and then she lowered their hands, her eyes and smile reverting to their usual dreamy expression. "It would be so much fun. But I won't go, if you'd prefer I don't. I wouldn't want to upset you."

Ginny laughed aloud, and it sounded forced an unnatural. "What are you talking about, Luna? Why would it upset me? It wouldn't upset me." She swallowed hard. "I'm going with Dean," she continued, and it was just as unpleasant to say as it was to think. "We'll see you there. We'll have a great time."

Luna studied her. "You know," she observed, "you're usually a far better liar."

"Look, Luna, it's fine, really," Ginny insisted. "Do you want to go? Would you have fun?"

"I suppose... " Luna said carefully. She seemed very sincere about not wanting to upset Ginny, which only made Ginny feel worse than she already did.

"You're going," Ginny decided firmly. "That's it. You're going and you'll have a great time."

"But you..."

"I have a boyfriend," Ginny said, cutting her off. "I have a boyfriend and he's a perfectly lovely boy, and we're all going to go to old Sluggy's party and have a good time, you with Harry and I with Dean, and that's the last I want to hear of it. All right?"

"All right," Luna said, smiling. "I'm very glad you're going to have a good time, too. I really am looking to meeting the vampire, did you know one was invited? I've never met one before. Do you think it's true that they glitter in the sunlight?"

"What?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Of course they don't. Vampires don't glitter. Was that in the Quibbler?"

"No," Luna replied. "I read it in a far less reputable publication."

"I should say so," Ginny said. "Glittering vampires, honestly. Who comes up with such nonsense?"

"Oh, I don't think it really matters," Luna assured her, smiling brightly. "I'd better go get ready."

"Aren't you coming down to dinner?" Ginny asked.

"No," came Luna's reply. "I have to spangle my robes. I'll see you later! Question, please!"

This last was directed to the eagle on the door, who immediately asked, "What is the purpose of an individual life?"

"Who's life?" Luna asked in reply.

"Good question," said the eagle, and the door swung open. Luna waved once more to Ginny with a smile, and then slipped back into Ravenclaw Tower. Satisfied and relieved she had not ruined their friendship, Ginny hurried back down the steps and towards the Great Hall, trying to convince herself with each step that she was nothing but happy that Luna and Harry were going to the party together, and that they would all have a wonderful time.

_Of course, if by some twist of fate Luna and Harry have SUCH a wonderful time tonight they decide they want to do it again..._

Those were the types of thoughts Ginny knew she simply could not allow to gain traction. She hurried into the Great Hall where dinner was well under way, concentrating on how happy she was for Luna... and without realizing it she walked the long way around the Gryffindor table, so that before she reached Dean, she would be forced to pass Harry.

What the bloody hell was wrong with her?

As she drew close, she noticed first off that Hermione was sitting by herself further down the table, thanks to her gormless brother. And as she drew closer, she heard that gormless brother say to Harry: "You could've taken anyone! Anyone! And you chose Loony Lovegood?"

Ginny stopped behind Harry, close enough to admire his adorably mussed hair, made all the more so by the fact that he never intended for it to look that way... but of course she did not let herself dwell on that, and instead snapped at her brother. "Don't call her that, Ron!" Harry's head whipped around to look at her, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. She got the distinct feeling that he knew she had been staring. "I'm really glad you're taking her, Harry," she blurted out, "she's really excited." Ron snorted his "approval", but Harry gave her small smile. Awkwardly, she smiled back, and then quickly turned and hurried down the table, plunking herself down next to Dean and Seamus.

"Where have you been?" Dean asked with a frown.

"Sorry," Ginny apologized. "I had to go up to Ravenclaw Tower and see Luna."

"Ravenclaw Tower?" Seamus puzzled his brow. "I dunno where that even is."

"Why?" asked Dean.

"Because she's my friend," Ginny shot back, "and I needed to talk to her. Is that all right with you?"

"Oi, I think Neville's calling me," said Seamus. "Be right over, Nev!" Seamus quickly got up and moved down the table several yards to sit on the far side of Neville, who clearly had no idea what was going on and had certainly not been calling Seamus.

"Why would you have to go to Ravenclaw Tower to see Luna?" Dean asked again. "You have almost every class with her."

Ginny watched Hermione get up from her seat and stride purposefully over to where Ron and Harry had now been joined by Parvati and Lavender, the latter of the two having attached herself to Ron's face. "She was upset," Ginny admitted, not looking at Dean. "I had upset her and I wanted to apologize."

"What'd you do?" Dean asked.

Ginny shook her head. "It was silly, really. Someone told me that Harry had asked her to Slughorn's party, and it flustered me, so when I was describing it to Colin, I accidentally called her Loony, and she overheard me. I had to apologize, you understand. I felt terrible." Ginny reached for a loaf of bread and some candied green beans, but stopped when she noticed Dean giving her a quizzical look.

"Why would that fluster you?" he quietly asked.

"Well," Ginny stammered, "you know, I didn't think he liked her, and then she told me they were just going as friends, and that..." She trailed off. She suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Again," Dean asked quietly, "why would that fluster you?"

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it when she realized she did not know what to say. After several long moments, she finally lied, "I don't know."

She and Dean sat together in awkward silence for several minutes, eating quietly. Suddenly, without finishing his meal, Dean pushed out from the table and turned to walk off into the corridor. "Dean?" Ginny called after him, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Where are you going?"

But Dean did not stop. Ginny got up from the table and hurried after him, trying hard not to draw attention to herself, but certain that every eye was on her. She caught up to Dean on the staircase outside of the Great Hall. "Where are you going?" she asked again.

"To bed," Dean replied without looking at her.

"To bed?" Ginny exclaimed. "What about the party."

"Right," Dean said. "The party. Well, I'm not really invited, am I? You're in the Slug Club, you can go by yourself."

"By myself?" Ginny repeated, her voice rising. "I have to go by myself?"

"Why not?" Dean shot back. "I'm fairly certain I'm not the one you want to be going with, anyway."

"Oh, please, Dean" Ginny scoffed, although she did not refute his claim. She hoped he didn't notice. "Don't be ridiculous. How will I look going to that party without my boyfriend?"

Dean nodded slowly, looking all around. Finally, his gaze settled on her. "I'm leaving early tomorrow," he said. "You probably won't see me. Why don't you take this holiday to decide whether or not you still even want me to be your boyfriend?"

Ginny gaped at him. "What?"

"And if you do," Dean continued, "the day we get back, you can meet me in the stands of the Quidditch pitch."

"It'll be mid-January!"

"Then it'll take some commitment to us to get you up there." Dean smiled at her sadly. "I do really care for you, Gin. But... " he looked away and swiped at his eye. "But I have to know that you feel the same." His eyes met her again, and the look on his face just about broke Ginny's heart. "Merry Christmas," he said quietly, kissing her gently on the cheek before turning and walking upstairs.

Ginny stood on the steps by herself for several long minutes, completely numb. As awful as she had felt about Luna earlier, if she multiplied that by about a hundred you'd begin to maybe get even somewhat close to how badly she felt about what she was doing to Dean. All thoughts of attending a party had been banished from her mind, and even if she were thinking of Slughorn's party she was certainly no longer in the mood to go.

She returned to the Gryffindor common room and she spent the rest of the night there alone, curled up in a chair. Dean did not make an appearance. Her friends seemed to know instinctively to leave her be. Hermione leaving for the Slug Club party in her dress robes with Cormac McLaggen (of all people) did not raise so much of a peep from her. She barely registered when Harry left as well, distracted and hurrying and pulling at the collar of his own dress robes; she was certain he did not notice her, but that was certainly nothing new. She had barely enough spirit (barely) to make rude comments towards Ron and Lavender, who seemed intent on spending the night entwined in one chair, faces jammed together (although on more than one occasion she noticed Ron gave the impression of one who was trying desperately to escape from Devil's Snare).

No, she spent the last evening of the fall term alone in her funk. She was saddened and disturbed, yes, by her parting conversation with Dean, and she felt simply terrible about how simply terrible he was feeling. But that was not what was disturbing her most of all. No, what was most disturbing to her was the fact that she had already decided, she was already entirely certain, that the day she returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas break, she was not going anywhere near the Quidditch pitch.


	15. Chapter 14: Older

"It's a bit on the overdone side, don't you think?"

Ginny craned her neck down to shoot her brother a playfully dirty look. "I happen to like my Christmas decorations festive, Ron," she sniped at him with a grin.

Gazing around the room from the top rung of the ladder, she admired her handiwork. It had taken nearly half the day, but The Burrow's living room was now thoroughly festooned with tinsel and garland and twinkle-lights and all of that holiday rubbish. Everything was done, from the charm that sent snow falling from the ceiling only to disappear before landing on anything, to the bushy green tree topped with a spray-painted garden gnome that Fred and George and the lot cleverly thought nobody had caught onto.

There was just one more piece of decoration to go, and she now had the mistletoe clutched firmly in her hand, ready to spello-tape it to the wall, which is just what she had been about to do before Ron had busted in the front door with firewood.

Ron shook his head. "It looks like a reindeer threw up in here."

"Smells much like your room then, doesn't it?"

"I like it," Harry offered cheerily, coming down the staircase and brightening up the room considerably in Ginny's opinion. "Nicely done, Ginny."

"Why, thank you, Harry!" she responded warmly, which she followed up by turning and sticking her tongue out at her brother. "See, Ron? At least some people have good taste." Glancing back to Harry, she said, "Only one decoration left to put up, Harry." She held the mistletoe aloft. "Want to help me?"

She didn't quite catch what he said in response, as whatever the answer was came while he was turning red, hurrying back towards the kitchen, and mumbling something about peeling sprouts. "Weirdo," Ron muttered at Ginny as he hurried into the kitchen after Harry. Sadly, this time he was gone before she could stick her tongue out at him again.

Ginny couldn't help but grin as she hung the mistletoe above the living room door. She was nervous and giddy and excited and terrified again, all at the same time. She felt like cowering under her bed and screaming with joy (that word again!) from the roof of The Burrow. It was that pit-of-your-stomach-flipping-with-eagerness-and-anticipation feeling that she hadn't had in… well, since well before Michael Corner, certainly. Since she had avowed to herself and Hermione Granger that she did not like Harry Potter, that she had no interest in Harry Potter, that she would actively pursue boys other than Harry Potter, and that she would no longer allow herself to believe that she had any romantic inclination whatsoever towards Harry Potter.

How had she never noticed that when she packed that all away, she had packed away that wonderful, awful feeling of excitement and nerves with it?

It was back now, with a vengeance. It had started the morning after Slughorn's party. True to his word, Dean did not see her before he left Hogwarts. She had stewed over it at breakfast, sick with guilt over Dean and how she had treated him, while at the same time furious with him because he had caused her to miss Slughorn's party, which if the morning-after buzz was any indication had actually turned out to be more than decent.

All of those concerns left her, however, as she hurried down the hall to McGonagall's office shortly before eleven o'clock, concerned she'd miss the Floo connection that had been set up to take she, Harry, and Ron back to The Burrow. She quickly turned the corner into the office… and ran full-on into Harry, who had been in the middle of telling Ron, "Relax, I'll go find her… OOOFFF!"

Ginny and Harry both stumbled backwards. "Are you all right, Harry?" she asked.

"Fine, I'm fine. Fine," Harry had said, straightening his glasses. Then he had looked at her. "I was just coming to get you."

As his eyes turned to her, Ginny had forgotten everything she had been worrying about in regards to Dean. She forgot about Dean completely, in fact, and she forgot about Ron and Professor McGonagall, and Christmas and Flooing home… truthfully, if someone had asked her right at that moment, she may have forgotten her own name. All she knew was Harry's eyes, and his hair, and his face, and his kindness and his warmth and his loyalty and… and everything, everything that was wonderful about him, that she had always known was wonderful about him but had forgotten until just then. She was busy forgetting everything else in the world, but she was remembering what it was like to like Harry. If Dean was threatening to break up with her, she could choose to stew in that guilt… or she could choose to explore other options. And no other option, she suddenly remembered, had ever quite appealed to her as much as the one that she had just bumped into.

She barely remembered traveling home, or greeting her parents or climbing up to her room to unpack her bag. Her world was spinning, and yet things were starting to make sense again. Her inexplicable fits of emotion, her moodswings, that nagging little voice in the back of her head… well, it was all painfully obvious now, wasn't it? And all it had taken was a fight with her boyfriend, a relationship on the verge of collapse, and an accidental collision and the unintentional gaze of a pair of emerald green eyes. She felt as if she was 11 years old again, with a maddening and gleeful crush on the Boy-Who-Lived… only multiplied now by about a zillion.

And as she climbed down away from the mistletoe she had just hung in the living room and put away the stepladder she had been standing on, she knew that at the moment she had realized what had been going on inside of her head and her heart, the instant she had figured it out… in that instant she had, in her mind at least, broken up with Dean. Honestly, he was making it so easy for her. All she had to do was not step onto the Quidditch pitch the day they returned to Hogwarts and it would be officially done; why, it almost seemed like nothing more than the simplest of formalities. She had, admittedly, begun openly flirting with Harry, although not as brazenly as she may have had in order to get the attention of Michael or Dean. Harry was different, and try though she may, there was still something about him that left her feeling tongue-tied and slightly foolish.

Still, it wasn't easy to flirt with the boy you liked in the middle of the Weasley house at Christmas time, especially when A.) she did not want her brothers, particularly Ron, to get wind of her new-found interest, B.) Harry himself was both completely oblivious to any flirtation (no surprise) and clearly did not reciprocate her feelings (again no surprise), and C.) every time she turned around, it seemed, somebody new had arrived to spend the holidays, be it Fred and George, Bill and Fleur, or even Professor Lupin. Still, Ginny found herself so giddy over her revelation that nothing that would normally bother her was bothering her. She even took the news that Fleur would be sharing her room with relative grace, going so far as to thank Fleur repeatedly for the perfume that she was now making a point of wearing around the house.

So Christmas Eve arrived and for all her intentions, it wasn't as though she'd gotten much time alone with Harry to really try and lay on some charm. She tried not to think about whether or not she'd actually be able to do that if given the chance, and not simply swallow her tongue and run to her room as had been her wont as a child, but she chose not to worry about such things, so happy was she that she had finally come to terms with this attraction that she had spent over two years denying.

The family was gathered in the living room, listening to a Christmas time broadcast over the Wizarding Wireless Network by Celestina Warbeck. As Ginny loathed Celestina Warbeck with every fiber of her being, she eagerly grasped upon the opportunity offered by Fred and George for a game of Exploding Snap. Besides, lying on the rug with them provided her with an excellent vantage point for blatantly staring at Harry, sitting on the couch between her father and Professor Lupin. She rather lost track of the game, to be honest, and finally Fred looked up at her quizzically.

"Hey," he said, "it's not that we don't mind winning, Gin, but could you at least put in some effort?"

"What's so interesting, anyway?" muttered George, craning his head around to see Harry, now in conversation with their father and Lupin. "Oh." He turned back to Fred and Ginny with a wry smile on his face. "The Order of the Phoenix hard at work, pumping 'The Chosen One' for some precious information, it would seem."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked her brothers.

"It's not often the Order gets Harry Potter alone in their living room," Fred explained. "I'll bet that dad and Lupin are pressing him to let them know about what Dumbledore's been up to."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "They're in the Order; surely they know whatever Dumbledore knows."

The twins both shook their heads. "That's not the gist we've been getting," Fred said, leaning in close and lowering his voice, the game now forgotten. "It seems as though Dumbledore's playing this hand close. Dad and the others figure that the only one who really knows what's going on with the old codger is Harry."

Ginny rolled that information over in her mind for a moment, taking the opportunity to pretend to be studying Harry strategically when in actuality she was just admiring how the firelight illuminated his features. "Harry has been taking special one-on-one classes with Dumbledore," she recalled to her brothers. Fred and George exchanged a knowing glance.

"That locks that theory up tight, then, doesn't it?" Fred replied with a grin, though George looked a touch more somber.

Ginny glanced up again at Harry, this new information fighting for a space among the more fanciful notions that she had been developing over the past few days. In this new light, she noticed that the exchange between Harry, Lupin, and her father did seem to be on the serious, somewhat heated side.

At that moment, Celestina Warbeck's show ended. Mrs. Weasley applauded enthusiastically along with the audience from over the WWN, but stopped to glare at Fleur when the latter proclaimed, "Eez eet over? Thank goodness, what an 'orrible…"

"Shall we have a nightcap, then?" her father asked loudly to cut off any trouble. "Who wants eggnog?" With that, he hurried of into the kitchen.

As conversation picked up around them and the others began to head lazily into the kitchen, George turned to Fred and Ginny where they lay on the rug. "What I don't understand," he muttered, "is how Dumbledore expects us to prepare for what's coming when he won't TELL us what's coming. The truth is, Gin," and at this George leaned in conspiratorially, "Dumbledore's been relying more and more on just two people, it seems. Harry, for one. And Snape."

"A match made in heaven, really," Fred offered dryly.

"And whatever's coming," George continued, "the only thing everyone seems agreed on is that Harry is the key."

"Dumbledore's protecting him," Fred chimed in, "the Order is basically on a constant Harry-watch, even if he doesn't know it..."

"... dad has heard that officials at the Ministry want to get to Harry for something, but Dumbledore won't let them," George added.

"... and of course, good ol' He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a big fan of Mr. Potter over there, and wants him for Merlin-knows-what, but nobody seems to think it's just to kill him," finished Fred.

Ginny looked at Harry again, who was now lost in deep conversation with Professor Lupin. "I didn't know," she said sadly. "I mean, I knew, but I didn't know. I guess I never realized how in-demand Harry was."

"And then, of course," George continued, "they're all in a panic about the x-factor."

"What's the x-factor?" Ginny asked.

"That while they all take their sweet time figuring out their next move," Fred explained, "Harry over there is going to take Ron and Hermione and do something incredibly stupid. Because I don't know if you've noticed over the years, Gin, but those three pretty much hold the ticket on doing incredibly stupid things."

A tray of steaming mugs was thrust in front of them. "Eggnog?" asked their father. They all sat up and took mugs off the tray, thanking him, and he moved on to offer drinks to Harry and Lupin. Fred fell into conversation with Bill and Fleur, and George got up, stretched, and moved to a chair.

Ginny remained sprawled on the living room rug, sipping from her mug and studying Harry, though more covertly than before. With some surprise, she realized for the first time how much older and more tired he looked then when she had first seen him on the platform at King's Cross five years ago, which in turn caused her to remember that she, herself, was older as well than the eleven year-old who had back then developed a tongue-tying crush on Harry Potter.

Ginny slept in on Christmas morning; by the time she awoke most of the house sounded abuzz downstairs and Fleur had already vacated the room. It had been a fitful sleep; her conversation with Fred and George had managed to put a bit of a damper on the exuberance she had been wrapping herself up with in regards to Harry… though it would seem not entirely, because realizing he was in the house this morning still put the same stupid grin on her face that it had been putting there every morning this holiday. With a yawn, she slipped her feet into her slippers, pulled on her robe, and grabbed one of the wrapped packages that had made their way to the bottom of her bed overnight. The usual was there: presents from her parents, a sweater from her mum, the addition this year of some Wheezes from the twins… and another package, wrapped in colorful (and non-traditional) floral printed paper and wrapped up in a series of delicate and intricate ribbons. Could it be from Dean? Ginny grimaced at the thought.

She carefully untied the ribbons (it seemed a crime to cut something done up so lovely) and opened the box. When she saw the contents inside, she gasped. They were robes… but they were remarkably feminine, pale yellow in color, made of what felt to be frighteningly expensive silk with a delicate lace trim.

Ginny goggled at them, turning them over in her hands, admiring the smoothness of the silk and the intricate design of the lace, but mostly wondering who in the world would have gotten her these?

"Do you like zem?"

Ginny looked up and saw Fleur standing in the doorway, grinning broadly. "I picked them out especially for you," she said. "Eet eez fairly safe to say you do not have robes like zem, no?"

"Er… no," Ginny stammered, still looking at the robes in her hand. "I certainly don't."

"Maybe you should not tell your parents about zis, hmm?" Fleur remarked with a smile and a wink. "Although I should theenk that your boyfriend will like zem." She crossed to the door, but a moment before shutting it she looked back to Ginny with a knowing smile. "Or perhaps 'Arry?"

She was gone before Ginny had a chance to reply. She sat silently, wondering if she had been too obvious about her new-found interest, wondering if she should maybe pull back a bit… but no, she decided to herself. After all, she had every right to like a boy; she was, after all, single, even if only in her own mind. And what did she care if Fleur had noticed what she was doing? If anyone knew anything about flirting in this house, it was certainly going to be Fleur far moreso than, say, the twins or Ron (she couldn't help but laugh just a little bit at this thought).

Ginny carefully folded the pale yellow robes back into their box and shoved the whole thing under her bed. Fleur, as obnoxious as she was, was right about one thing: the last thing Ginny needed was for her mother to come across this particular gift.

Joining her family for Christmas lunch, Ginny wore the far safer garb of her Weasley holiday sweater. Harry and Ron were the last to arrive at the already crowded table, and as they tromped down the stairs Ron was saying, "… really cracking, don't you think? Hermione and her house-elf rights crusade just took a few hits."

"You really haven't a brain, have you, Ronald?" Ginny said in amazement, trying to ignore the chorus of 'hallelujahs' that broke out in her head when Harry grinned at her comment.

Ron wasn't so impressed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ginny shrugged in response. "All I'm saying is that once in awhile you might want to be nice about the things Hermione cares about, like house-elf rights and all that. You're not twelve anymore, you know."

Ron opened his mouth to protest again, but then stopped as his eyes glazed over in thought. Hopefully she had finally struck a chord in him. "What are you two going on about house-elfs for, anyway?" asked Bill from across the table as Fleur fawned over him and up his plate with food under the disdainful gaze of Mrs. Weasley.

"Right," chimed in Fred. "It's not like you'll ever be able to afford one, Ronniekins, though we've been thinking of getting one or two for the shop."

"Yeah, well, don't tell Hermione," Ron grumbled, although not so effusively as before, Ginny noted.

"I have a house-elf," Harry reminded everyone. "Unfortunately."

"Oh, right, that detestable lump, Kreacher," George replied, prompting a quick rap on the back of the head with a wooden spoon and an admonishment to watch his language by their mother.

"And how is Kreacher, Harry?" Lupin asked, leaning forward. "I understand you've ordered him to live at Hogwarts."

"Never see him," Harry shrugged, spooning parsnips onto his plate. "But he did send me a Christmas present."

The entire table turned to him in shock, except for Ron, who impressed Ginny by turning a shade of red she had never seen before while attempting to hold back his laughter. "A present from a house-elf?" asked Mr. Weasley. "How peculiar! Have you ever heard of that before, Remus?"

"No," said their former professor with interest. "What did he get you, Harry?"

Harry finished serving himself before looking up evenly at the table, all waiting expectantly for an answer. Ginny was curious herself, and Ron's barely constrained fit of hysteria was only serving to pique her interest further.

"Box of maggots," Harry said simply. Ron exploded into laughter as the rest of the table just stared, some in horror, some in delighted amazement.

"It's not still up there?" Mrs. Weasley asked in disgust, turning to the staircase, ready to charge up with a broom and her wand.

"Nope… we threw it… out the window!" Ron managed between sputters, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Right. Happy Christmas to you, then," said Fred, picking up a serving bowl and passing it down towards Harry. "Care for some rice?" This set off another round of laughter, and the table settled into a good-natured buzz of conversation and storytelling.

Ginny kept one ear on the conversation, being sure to drop a comment or two amongst the chatter, making extra sure to do so for the benefit of Fleur, who was (as far as Ginny was concerned) too observant for her own good… but she also managed to keep one eye on Harry the entire time… watching him eat, watching him laugh, watching him murmur to Ron and joke with the twins… she was watching him so intently, as a matter of face, it came to no surprise that she was the one who saw it. Reaching across the table, happy to have something, anything, to say to Harry directly, and even happier still to have a reason to touch him however innocently, she said, "Harry, you've got a maggot in your hair."

With her slender fingers she delicately picked the tiny creature out from just over his ear, trying to ignore the swooping in her stomach as her hand brushed against the side of his face, immensely grateful that she was wearing her long-sleeved Weasley sweater so that the goose pimples that suddenly exploded up and down her arm were hidden and invisible. She flicked the grub away onto the floor where Bill then stomped on it for good measure, in spite of Fleur's protestations of "'Ow 'orrible!"

Ginny made quite a show, then, of tucking back into her plate; she certainly didn't want to seem obvious. Fortunately, Fleur was immediately distracted by Ron's graceless efforts to pass her the gravy; she was saved from an unsightly brown stain down her front by Bill's quick wandwork. "You are as bad as zat Tonks," she said to Ron, laughing airily as she did so. "She is always knocking -"

"I invited _dear_ Tonks to come along today, but she wouldn't come," Mrs. Weasley said, cutting off Fleur and giving her a stern look. She did, however, immediately turn that look to Professor Lupin, just as Ginny knew she would. "Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

"No," Lupin said shortly and without looking up from his plate, "I haven't been in contact with anybody very much. But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

"Hmmm," Ginny's mum said, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. Ginny rolled her eyes, though she doubted very much anyone else understood what was going on. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

Ginny had thought earlier in the year that all this talk of Tonks had been for Bill's benefit; she had never personally thought that Tonks was Bill's type, but she was willing to give it a shot as anything had to be better than her brother marrying Phlegm. She had finally picked up that it was not Bill whom her mother was pushing towards Tonks, but Professor Lupin. Ginny was sure there was more of a story there, but had yet to surmise what that story was.

She was surreptitiously watching Harry ask Professor Lupin a question, something about Patronuses she couldn't quite make out, when her mother's fork clattered to the table and she rose to her feet, hand clutching her chest and eyes goggling out of her head. For an instant, Ginny thought she had been Crucioed, but then she cried out, "Arthur! Arthur - it's Percy!"

Everyone craned their heads to look out the kitchen window, and Ginny jumped to her feet to get a better look. Sure enough, there he was, the prodigal son himself, tromping through the snowy front yard, and with him was…

"Arthur, he's - he's with the Minister!"

The newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, was limping along behind Percy, managing a very commanding air even with the deficiency in his stride, his mane of gray hair billowing around him.

The kitchen as a whole was speechless as the door swung open. Percy stood in the doorway, stiff and unnatural looking. He gazed over his family imperiously for a long moment before finally declaring, "Merry Christmas, Mother."

"Oh, Percy!" Ginny's mother cried, throwing herself into his arms. Ginny and Bill shared an irritated look; Ginny was glad that she was not the only one who saw the insincerity dripping off of Percy's countenance.

By now, Scrimgeour had entered the kitchen, and watched the scene in front of him play out with an affected air of happiness. "You must forgive this intrusion," he said after a smiling and weeping Mrs. Weasley had disengaged from a still-stiff Percy and wiped her eyes. "Percy and I were in the vicinity - working, you know - and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

It took every ounce of effort she had in her not to gag. Ginny glanced at her father and other brothers; they were buying this no more than she and Bill were. Judging by the expression on Ron's face she thought he might hex the lot of them. And Harry…

… Harry was watching the scene play out impassively, but his eyes were just perceptively narrowed as he studied the Minister of Magic up and down as one would measure up an opponent before a duel.

Meanwhile, Scrimgeour was pleasantly rebuffing her mother's requests for him to join them. "I don't want to intrude," he insisted, "wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly…"

"Oh, Perce!" said her mother, a fresh set of tears readying themselves to flow as she reached up to kiss him.

"… We've only looked in for five minutes," continued the Minister, "so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden… Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

He had now let his gaze settle on Harry, which would have been harmless enough, Ginny thought angrily, if she, Fleur, and George were not also finished… and if anyone could possibly believe for a second that the Minister of Magic was unaware of Harry Potter's name. The atmosphere around the table grew even thicker, and even Ginny's mum seemed to be coming aware that something here was not entirely right. Ginny waited for Harry to turn where he stood and head upstairs, to thwart the entire disgusting plan of her equally disgusting brother and his deplorable boss.

But instead, Harry simply nodded. "Yeah, all right," he said, standing up and heading for the garden door. "It's fine," he said to Professor Lupin, who had shown signs of getting up with him. "Fine," he repeated while brusquely pulling on his coat, this time to Mr. Weasley.

"Wonderful!" said Scrimgeour as Harry walked briskly past him and outside. "We'll just take a turn around the garden, and Percy and I'll be off. Carry on, everyone!"

With that, the Minister joined Harry outside, letting the door close behind him, and leaving in his wake one of the most awkward scenarios Ginny had ever been party to.

They sat there awkwardly, Percy standing over them. Now that the Minister was gone, he seemed reluctant to continue pretending, even badly, that he wanted to be there.

"Aren't... aren't you going to join us, Perce?" said Mrs. Weasley hopefully, though anyone else at the table could see that it was a lost cause.

"No point. We'll only be a minute," Percy replied stiffly, and then resumed his silence.

It sat over the room for a moment, and then in a what appeared to be a desperate and misguided attempt to break the awkwardness, Fleur stood up. "We 'ave not been properly introduced, I think," she said loudly. "I am Fleur Delacour, and I will be marrying your brother een…"

"We've met," Percy said bitterly, cutting her off.

Fleur seemed confused. "I'm sorry, 'ave we?"

"Yes," Percy explained. "During the Triwizard Tournament. I was one of the judges."

"You were?" Fleur said in amazement, backing once again into her seat. "I am sorry, but I do not remember you –"

"Think hard, Fleur," Fred offered. "He was the one with his head completely up Minister Fudge's –"

"George!"

"I'm Fred, mum."

"Whichever you are, stop that immediately. It's no wonder Percy never comes to visit anymore." Mrs. Weasley seemed to be desperately trying to treat this as just another sibling argument, and it made Ginny even madder at her elder brother to see firsthand what he was doing to their mum.

"Why are you here, Perce?" asked their father quietly, and all eyes turned to Arthur. It was rare to see Arthur Weasley so angry, even quietly so, and it immediately drew a hush over all other activity at the table.

Percy met his father's gaze for a moment, but then turned away. "As Minister Scrimgeour said," he muttered, "I came to wish you all a Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, then," said Mr. Weasley. "And you can be on your way."

"Arthur, how can you - ?" But a stern glance, unusual from her father to her mother, silenced Ginny's mum.

"You can be on your way," Mr. Weasley repeated, folding his hands in front of his lips and directing a piercing gaze at his son. "Or is Minister Scrimgeour not finished pressing Harry for information?"

Ginny glanced outside, as did Ron and her other brothers. The Minister and Harry were standing on the far side of the garden, and Scrimgeour was talking animatedly to Harry, who was staring determinedly at a spot on the ground, apparently unmoved by whatever words were being used to ply him.

"The Minister," Percy began, his voice growing heated, "is attempting to do what is best for the Wizarding community, and for general overall appearances."

"Realizing it's hard for people to believe the Ministry has a chance against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named without The Chosen One on their side, are you?" Bill asked coolly. Ginny was grateful for the presence of Bill, whose relaxed countenance seemed to be the only thing keeping their father in check.

"The Chosen One!" Percy scoffed. "Nonsense! Ridiculous rubbish! He hasn't been 'chosen' for anything!"

"You've got one up on him then, Perce, as you've been officially chosen as the Year's Biggest Prat, second year running!"

"Fred!"

"Awards ceremony to be held at Malfoy Manor. Congrats, old bean!"

"GEORGE! ENOUGH!"

"I'd hardly expect a couple of dropouts like you to understand," Percy sniffed. At this, Ginny caught the glance shared between the twins. As one, they stealthily reached for their spoons, filling them with mashed parsnips and ducking them beneath the table. "I've tried to tell you all," Percy said, looking around the table, "Harry Potter is trouble, and Dumbledore is worse. One does not fight a war with school boys and text books. Whatever romanticized notion that old fool has about 'prophecies' and 'love' is nothing more than silly gibberish."

"Don't you speak about Albus Dumbledore that way!" Arthur warned him, but Percy continued.

"I've tried to convince you three," he said to his parents and Bill, "and as for you two," he said to Fred and George, laughing, "well, why even bother?" He looked at Ron. "I had thought you, Ron, might listen to reason, being made a Prefect and all…"

"Bite me."

"RONALD! REALLY!"

"But what about you?" It took Ginny a moment to realize that Percy was looking directly at her; in fact, everyone at the table was looking at her. Ginny looked at Ron, and he gave her the tiniest of shrugs.

"What do you say, Ginevra?" Percy asked. "I should think you, of all people, should understand the danger of that man being allowed to run his school with blatant disregard to the rules and standards laid forth by the Ministry of Magic. Why, if Dumbledore had allowed the Ministry to have a firmer hand at the school, that unfortunate situation with the so-called 'Chamber of Secrets' may never have happened."

Nobody spoke. Although her eyes were downcast, she could feel the gaze of her family on her. She allowed herself to take in the full meaning of Percy's words before she responded. "I understand," she said slowly.

Then she stood, and met Percy's gaze. "I understand that you're a complete git." She heard the appreciative chuckles of Ron, Bill, and the twins, and even her parents did not seem to entirely disapprove. Lupin gave her a little wink.

Percy shook his head in disapproval. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," he lamented. "What with your unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter. To be honest, I knew exactly how you'd react when asked to choose against him, and for what silly reason?"

The chuckling stopped. Ginny's jaw set and she could feel the blood racing up to her face. "You think you know, Perce?" she hissed dangerously. Percy's eyes widened a little, but he did not speak. "You think you know? You don't know. When I was in the 'so-called' Chambers of Secrets, when I was having my 'unfortunate situation', when I was possessed by Voldemort, do you know what the Ministry's response was?"

"They were going to close down the school," Arthur said quietly.

"And do you know, Percy, do you know what Harry Potter's response was?" Her voice began to rise and her face got redder, but nobody dared interrupt her, especially not Percy. "Harry figured out what was going on, and he came to rescue me, that's what it was!"

"S'not like he didn't have some help," Ron muttered from next to her.

"Perhaps now's not the time, Ron," suggested Fred.

"So maybe I'm not the one who should be rethinking her loyalties," Ginny finished, her voice raised defiantly now. "Check a mirror, Percy. For all the good it might do."

Percy met her angry gaze for a moment longer, before rolling his eyes and turning away. "Children," he muttered.

The first load of parsnips hit him on the right cheek; the second, on the front of his robes. But it was the third spoonful, Ginny's quickly loaded spoonful, which landed right in his mouth as he turned to the twins to chastise them for their childishness.

And it was at that moment, while Percy was sputtering angrily, that Harry reentered the kitchen. He studied Percy for a moment, and then said: "That's a good look for you, Perce."

Percy stomped out of the kitchen and into the garden. Everyone craned their necks to watch him leave through the window, where he joined an equally unhappy looking Minister. Once they had passed through the gates and disapparated, everyone's focus turned to Harry. "What happened, Harry?" Lupin asked, rising.

"What did he want, son?" asked Arthur.

Harry just looked at them all, taking in the weeping Mrs. Weasley, the somewhat stymied Fleur, the too-pleased-with themselves twins… and Ginny, who realized that she was still standing and could still feel the flush in her cheeks.

Harry shook his head. "I'm… I'm sorry, everyone." And with that, he thrust his hands in his pockets and quickly went up the stairs, shoulders slumped.

"Harry, no, dear, come back!" Mrs. Weasley cried after him. "Ron, go get him!" Ron jumped up and followed Harry up the steps as everyone else sat silently, the festive mood shattered. "So," asked Fred into the somberness, "what's for dessert?"

The mood picked up a bit as the day wore on; it would almost have to with the sampling of pies, cakes, and cookies that Mrs. Weasley had prepared. Ron did eventually convince Harry to come back downstairs, where he and the twins attempted to cheer him up with their scathingly accurate impressions of Percy.

Still, as the evening wore on, the house descended again into a sort of muted somberness. While Harry and Ron played chess, and Bill, her father, and Professor Lupin had an urgent talk in the front yard, Ginny wandered into the kitchen where she found her mum slowly stirring a cup of tea, her eyes, staring off into nothingness.

"Mum?" Ginny asked, pulling up a seat alongside her. "You all right?"

Her mother smiled weakly, and patted Ginny's hand with her own. "I'm fine, dear, just fine."

"Don't bother yourself with Percy," Ginny tried to assure her. "He'll come to his senses someday."

"Or he won't," Mrs. Weasley said realistically. "Our wouldn't be the first family to be torn apart by silly arguments and politics." She sighed deeply. "Truth is, dear, I wasn't even thinking about Percy just now. I was worrying about Harry."

"Harry?" Ginny frowned and her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Think of it, Ginny," explained her mum. "The Minister of Magic, on Christmas, comes to visit Harry Potter. In our house, yes, but we had nothing to do with that visit, no matter what I wanted to believe. No, it was all about Scrimgeour wanting to talk to Harry." She shook her head in disbelief. "I know we have seen some remarkable things since that boy has come into our lives, Ginny, but I hope you aren't so jaded by them that you can't recognize how extraordinary that is. The Minister of Magic," she explained, "does not make housecalls for just anyone."

Ginny nodded. "I suppose I didn't think of it that way," she said. They sat together in silence for a minute, and then Ginny asked, "What did the Minister want with Harry? Do you know?"

"Oh, Merlin only knows," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Surely it had to do with the prophecy and being The Chosen One and You-Know-Who and all that. Incidentally, dear, you are being a little liberal with his name, don't you think?"

"I feel I'm entitled," Ginny said drily. "We know each other intimately."

"Oh, I know, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, grasping her daughter's hand, tears brimming anew. "I am so sorry for that, and I am so sorry for the cavalier way that Percy brought it up." Ginny shrugged, but said nothing. She did not want to talk about it, honestly, not now. "Imagine," her mother continued, "what might have happened if not for Harry Potter. It amazes me, the things that boy has already done for us, and not just for our family, but for all of us." A single tear fell down her mother's cheek. "And I can't even imagine how much we all have to ask of him still. I simply can't imagine it, Ginny."

Later that night, Ginny could not sleep. There were just too many things about which she could not stop thinking: Percy, Dumbledore, the Minister, the Chamber of Secrets… and Harry. That last was not a new development; Harry had been on her mind, really, for weeks now, since he had caught she and Dean snogging in the hallway. But… it felt differently tonight. It felt different. She could not put her finger on it.

Finally, at one in the morning, she gave up. Tossing the covers aside, she stepped into her slippers and pulled on her robe. Tea. She needed tea. Quietly, she padded down the steps towards the kitchen. Imagine her surprise to see that somebody had already beaten her there.

"Harry?" she whispered. Startled, he looked up from the mug he had been cradling himself.

"Ginny!" he said, and he seemed almost alarmed… but it passed. "Sorry. I was thinking."

"S'alright," she answered, slipping into the kitchen. "I think we had the same idea."

"I'll leave, if you want."

"No!" she said quickly, then hastened to add, "You don't have to." Harry just nodded. Quietly and swiftly, Ginny made her own cup of tea, and then sat down at the table opposite of Harry. They sat together in silence, each sipping their tea, occasionally glancing at each other.

Finally, Ginny broke the quiet. "So," Ginny asked, "what did Scrimgeour want?" But Harry slowly shook his head.

"I'm really not supposed to talk about it," he told her apologetically. "I promised Dumbledore. Just Ron and Hermione."

Ginny had expected this answer, and yet uncharacteristically, it did not bother her. The things about which she was tossing around in her bed slowly began to explain themselves. She sadly shook her head. "It's not fair," she said softly. Harry looked up at her, his green eyes pleading behind his glasses.

"Please," he said, "I know it's not. I wish I could talk about it, I do, but I can't. I didn't listen to Dumbledore last year and people died. I'm really sorry, Ginny. Honestly."

"That's not what I mean," she corrected him. "I mean it's not fair, what they all ask of you. The Ministry wants you to do things for them, the Order tells you what to do, Dumbledore gives you private lessons, teaching you I-don't-know-what... "

Harry looked away. "They all want what's best for me," he mumbled, although at that moment it didn't seem as if he much believed it. Ginny continued.

"Maybe they do," she said. "But it's not fair. You're sixteen years old. It's not fair that you're not allowed to act it."

Harry nodded slowly, but still did not look at her. "It's all right," he told her, though the softness in his tone said otherwise. "I'm 'The Chosen One', if you didn't know." He shrugged. "Whatever that means."

Ginny shook her head softly, and then leaned in towards Harry just a little bit, almost imperceptibly. "Just say it," she whispered.

"Say what?" Harry asked, his eyes still averted.

"Say that it's not fair," she softly implored him. "Just say it once. Because it isn't." He did not speak, but he finally looked at her, his wide green eyes boring into hers, and if she stayed completely still she swore she could feel his heart beating just as quickly as her own. "Go on," she urged him. "I won't tell anyone. And afterwards, as soon as morning comes, you can go on being 'The Chosen One' and 'The Boy Who Lived' and all of that rubbish. But just for one second, please, admit it: it's not fair."

He stayed silent, but their eyes remained locked. For a brief moment she thought she may have pushed him too far, in the wrong way... but that moment passed quickly. Somehow, she knew that she hadn't. Finally, he leaned in towards her, ever so slightly, and in a hushed whisper, as though afraid Albus Dumbledore might hear him otherwise, he said with a small, rueful smile: "It's not fair."

Ginny returned his small smile with one of her own. "Well, of course it's not," she agreed.

A moment hung between them forever, each pair of eyes searching within those of the other. For not the first time, Ginny found that this silence with Harry was very unlike most of the silences she shared with people, in that rather than demanding some inane chatter to awkwardly fill it, it really demanded quite the opposite.

And it was shattered moments later when her father came in from his shed.

"Harry, Ginny!" Arthur said with some surprise. "I didn't expect to find you two up. I was just outside talking with Bill and Remus. Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, Mr. Weasley," Harry said quickly, straightening up and dropping his eyes back into his tea.

"Nothing," Ginny agreed, taking another sip of her tea as well. She actually was quite sure that it had been something… but, come to think of it, maybe it hadn't been. Maybe all she was feeling now, for Harry, was the residue of a long-forgotten crush, no more substantive than the dregs at the bottom of her teacup.

But maybe it was also something else... something that she was just now beginning to remember.

She was fairly certain that was the case, but whatever it was, over the last forty-eight hours… things had changed. Within her, around her, her understanding of the stakes and of everything that was piled on Harry's shoulders, and all of their shoulders… her understanding of it all had changed, and this change had changed everything else. Things had changed, and she needed time to digest it, this, whatever it was that was rolling through her now.

"Ginny," her father asked, "would you mind if I talked to Harry alone for a moment?"

"Sure," she said, getting up and placing her cup in the sink. "Good night, Harry," she said softly.

"'Night, Gin," he replied, casting a look her way. Ginny started up the steps, but then turned back to her father. "Just so you know though, daddy… it's not fair."

"Ginny, I'm sorry," her father began the explanation she had given her a hundred times before, "but you know that there are some things we have to discuss that, well... I'm afraid you can't hear. I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head. "That's not what I'm talking about," she assured her father quietly. And with a shared smile between she and Harry, Ginny turned up the staircase and headed off to bed.


	16. Chapter 15: Time Lapse

"You see," Ginny explained, "a few months ago I suffered what I suppose you might call a relapse."

Hermione looked puzzled, and said something that still sounded completely alien coming out of her mouth. "I don't understand. A relapse?'

"Keep it down," Ginny said quietly. "Madam Pince might hear you, and the last thing I want to deal with is some sort of ruckus."

"Fine, fine," Hermione tutted, clearly eager to stay on-topic. "Explain to me again: what relapse?"

Ginny sighed and gazed out the tall cathedral-style library windows into the early February snow. "I mean that, sometime last term, you could say I had sort of been..." here she took a deep breath, and rushed out the words, "… thinking about Harry. Quite a bit. Again."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "You mean, 'thinking', thinking about Harry?"

"Is there any other way? Of course. Although I'll have you know that it's done. Over and done. It came and it went, that's it."

"And at what point was it 'done'?"

"When we came back to school," Ginny replied. "And when I got back to Dean. My boyfriend. Remember him?"

"I do," the older girl answered curtly. "Do you?"

"No need to be awful about it," Ginny huffed. "You asked."

"I did, you're right," Hermione said, taking the attitude out of her voice. "So you say it's over."

"It is."

"Fine. When did it begin?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ginny answered with practiced idleness. "I suppose sometime around the Quidditch match against the Slytherins? It's so silly." She laughed lightly, another well-rehearsed maneuver. "After the match, after I knocked the announcer's desk on Zachrias Smith, Harry hugged me, and… it's so childish… well, I think that may have done it. So silly. But then we got back to The Burrow for the holiday…" images flashed before Ginny's mind's-eye at this point; images of Harry and his questioners and maggots in hair and conversations over tea, but she quickly pushed them away.

"And?" asked Hermione.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, at The Burrow, I had the crush and then…" she shrugged carelessly, another practiced move. "I didn't."

"Just like that?" was Hermione's incredulous response.

"Just like that."

"Hmmph." Hermione measured Ginny up with an expertly analytical eye for a few long moments. Ginny, for her part, sat cool and quiet, letting Hermione see only what she wanted Hermione to see. "So what do you plan to do?" Hermione finally asked, the concern and interest in her voice imperceptibly betrayed by the excited gleam in her eye.

"Nothing," said Ginny firmly. "As I told you, it's done. It was just my stupid childhood crush coming through again. Nothing more."

"All right," Hermione said carefully. "But what if it is more?"

At this, Ginny momentarily struggled to maintain her carefully measured composure. "What do you mean?" she asked with just the appropriate level of idle curiosity.

"I mean," Hermione explained, "this hasn't happened to you in awhile, has it?"

"Almost two years," Ginny admitted.

"Right. So, what if this time was different? Did you feel like you used to?"

"Yes," Ginny lied coolly. "Completely."

"But are you sure…"

"Hermione," Ginny interrupted her. "It was nothing more than a silly schoolgirl crush making a surprise appearance. Don't make it out to be any more than that. I wouldn't even have brought it up if you hadn't asked."

Hermione leaned back in her chair. "I don't know that I should believe you," she said.

"Don't believe me, then."

"You've been sneaking peeks at Harry when nobody's looking."

"You're imagining things. You always have."

"You're withdrawn and moody."

"I'm a fifteen year old girl. Comes with the territory."

"And you've been spending less and less time with Dean."

"I have been studying for my O.W.L.s!" Ginny said, raising her voice to the point where she earned an admonishing look from Madam Pince. "You of all people, I would think," she continued at a lower tone, "know the importance of the O.W.L.s."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I suppose…" she said cautiously, still clearly rolling some things around in her head.

"Besides," Ginny said with a casual shrug meant to convey a closure of the subject, "even if I were interested, I'm fairly certain Harry has other things on his mind." With that, she made a great show of hauling her Potions textbook out of her bag, flopping it open on the table, and burying her nose in it. Contrary to convincing appearances, however, she was not studying; she had her senses well-attuned to pick up any and all responses from Hermione.

"Things on his mind other than what, exactly?" the elder girl asked. "You?"

"No, don't be absurd," Ginny replied with a carefully crafted lilt of laughter but without looking up from her book. "I meant girls in general. But since you brought it up…" (here she glanced up at Hermione) "… I am very certain I am not on Harry's mind, either. Entirely certain." And with a 'what a silly notion!' smile on her lips, Ginny dropped her eyes again, continuing to pretend to read.

"Well…" Hermione said slowly. Ginny's ears perked up, but she would not allow her eyes to do the same.

"Well, what?" she asked.

"There was that one time," Hermione said slowly. "That first Hogsmeade trip, when he invited you to come with us. That struck me as odd."

"Why, because you lot never ask anyone to play with you?" Ginny said with a grin and a glance up to her friend to find that Hermione was still peering at her intently. "Don't read too much into things, Hermione. Harry was just being nice." But as she dropped her eyes back to her book, she did not mention to Hermione that she had already thought of that moment… and had replayed it in her head just a few hundred times.

Finally, Hermione got up. She stayed at the table for a moment longer, studying Ginny as carefully as Ginny was pretending to study Potions. Finally, she said, "Well, if you're certain, then."

Ginny nodded. "I am."

Hermione took up her bag and books, but turned back before leaving. "You know, Ginny… you're not as clever as you think you are."

Ginny met Hermione's gaze with one of her own and a small smile. "Neither are you."

Hermione smiled back. "We'll see," was her reply, and then she was off.

Ginny waited a few minutes before glancing up; in case Hermione was still watching she wanted to ensure that she seemed as though she had completely forgotten the conversation and was now thoroughly ensconced in her studies. When she did look up from her book to see that Hermione had indeed left, she exhaled a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

That had been entirely too close, she realized as she stuffed her unread Potions book back into her bag. Hermione had almost caught her, and had clearly been watching her closely over the past few weeks. It seemed as though she had better put forth a more convincing front than she had been thus far… although as she trudged back to her dormitory, she realized that if she was being completely honest with herself, there was a small part of her that had wanted Hermione to catch her, to call her out, to refuse to bite on her bluff. Then, maybe, she could stop lying about it, and she would be able to talk about it with somebody.

Of course, if would help if she could figure out what "it" was.

She no longer had a crush on Harry. She hadn't made that up. What she hadn't said was that what was once a mere crush had by now definitively grown into something much bigger and much scarier, and something she seemed much more likely to crash headlong into at some point in the near future. She had been hoping to put off that crash until she understood what, exactly, it was that she was dealing with, and things like being confronted by Hermione Granger in the library, demanding to know why Ginny had been avoiding her boyfriend and staring at Harry… things like that were exactly what she had been hoping to avoid until she sorted out the mess in her head.

Ginny made it up to her dorm without further incident, and threw herself down onto her bed behind the protection of its canopy, staring blankly at the ceiling and feeling mildly annoyed that she may have to switch her favorite hiding spot. She had taken to hiding in the library since the start of term for a number of reasons. One, she had been hoping to avoid questions like the ones Hermione had just now ambushed her with. Two, it afforded her plenty of time to think… although for several weeks now she had been thinking almost exclusively about the same issues over and over, and seemed no closer to an answer on any of them.

Three, it allowed her an excuse not to see Dean.

She shuddered as she reminded herself of that. For the umpteenth time, she tried to remember why she had returned to dating him once the new term had begun. She had had every intention, every intention, of avoiding him, of not going to see him in the stands of the Quidditch pitch when she, Ron, and Harry returned to Hogwarts after Christmas. In fact, after her father had sent her to bed following her late-night Christmas tea with Harry, she had fallen asleep with the firm belief that it had been the start of… well, the start of something, and she had had the absolute resolve to… well, to do something about it.

That resolve wilted, however, with the arrival of daybreak and sunlight, and for one of the few times in her young life that she could remember her nerve had been lost. She had not been able to bring herself to even discuss the night's conversation with Harry, let alone expand upon it with him. As he seemed disinclined to mention it himself, the subject did not come up again.

So when the day came for the return trip to Hogwarts, Ginny at least took solace in the fact that it would be not be gut-wrenchingly impossible to at least address the other half of this equation: to break up with Dean, all she had to do was return to school and then NOT go down to the Quidditch pitch. This had seemed straightforward enough.

But when the moment came to leave, something happened. Her mother was crying; that in itself wasn't surprising as she had been crying on and off ever since Percy's visit. Her tears took on a new intensity, however, as she hugged Harry tightly. "Promise me you'll look after yourself," she had said to him. "Stay out of trouble."

"I always do, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said with a smile. "I like a quiet life, you know me."

Her mother had laughed at that, but the tears did not stop. Not completely. "Be good, then, all of you." With that, Harry spun himself into the Floo. As soon as he disappeared, so did the smile from Mrs. Weasley's face. "Look after him, Ronald," she said desperately to Ron. "Both of you," she added with a glance at Ginny.

Ron shrugged. "What else is there to do at school?"

"I mean it!" admonished their mother. "It is up to us to keep watch out for that boy." At that, Mrs. Weasley's eyes had grown watery. "After all," she added in a wavering voice, "we are the only family he has."

"Right, mum," Ron had answered, rolling his eyes to Ginny. Ginny had reflexively rolled hers as well in response, but her mother's words had triggered a realization in Ginny. Harry had nobody in the world. He had no mother, no father, no grandparents, no siblings, his godfather had been murdered the year before... he had nobody, except for the Weasleys. After all, she had said it to him herself earlier that summer, hadn't she? Reminded him their mum saw him as another son?

Ginny had said good-bye to her mother and followed Ron and Harry through the Floo on autopilot. All she could think was, what was she thinking? She was going to... what, ask Harry out? Date him? Ask him to be her boyfriend? (How ridiculous and frivolous that word sounded. "Boyfriend.") And when he said "no"... if he said "no"... or even if he said "yes" and then they grew weary of each other as all boyfriends and girlfriends must do eventually, unless they marry... what then? Would it make Harry's visits to The Burrow awkward and embarrassing? Would he stop coming over altogether? Who was she to take away the only family he had left, even if only a surrogate family, just to satisfy what was surely just another silly little crush?

These are the things that raced around her mind as she silently trailed behind Harry and Ron through the halls of Hogwarts towards Gryffindor Tower. She was so distracted that if pressed later on she would be able to offer no recollection of what Harry and Ron had talked about on the way from McGonagall's office, just as she barely noticed when Hermione approached them to give them the tower password and to ignore Ron.

_You're being ridiculous! _the little voice in the back of her head barked at her as they stepped into the Gryffindor common room. _Absolutely ridiculous! Harry does not simply think of you as Ron's little sister!_

No, but what if he thought of her as HIS OWN little sister? She hadn't really thought of that.

_I can't win with you,_ moaned the voice.

She realized she was in no state to tell if these were legitimate concerns, or if they were fevered hallucinations taken on by a panicked mind. She was so distracted that the sight of Lavender Brown launching herself onto Ron's face hardly even nauseated her. She had barely sorted out her new feelings for Harry and what they meant, the feelings discovered over a late night cup of tea, and now this whole new set of worries was throwing everything she had thought she had decided into an uproar. She needed more time to figure out what was what, because suddenly the delicate balance of emotions she had been stacking up for the past several weeks had toppled over into a jumbled mess and she had no idea how to put them back together. She realized in a near panic that she needed more time, more time to think and to sort things through.

Unfortunately, given the decision she had to make right then at that moment, in her mind at least it had seemed her time was up. And this is why, when she heard Hermione say, "There's a table over here... Coming, Ginny?" she had answered:

"No, thanks, I said I'd meet Dean."

And that's just what she did. She had turned right back out of the portrait hole and tromped her way to the Quidditch pitch. Right then, right at that moment, it had just seemed easier.

Dean was ecstatic to see her, of course, and launched immediately into a long-winded explanation of how he was going to be a better boyfriend, through which Ginny had smiled and nodded at the appropriate moments, even throwing in a quick snog or two. She hadn't heard a word of it, though, as there was a stronger melancholy settling over her, the sense that she had begun to see the world in color but she was now willfully allowing it to fade back to gray.

The next few weeks had blurred together. Dean fawned over her, walking her to classes and helping her through doors, being the perfect gentleman in the common room... but Ginny barely noticed any of it, and what she did notice irritated her. She had returned to him to buy herself some more time to think, but now had to fight the constant urge to scream out for fear of suffocation. "Are you all right?" Dean asked her in a typical evening exchange, lazing around the common room. "You seem distracted."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she would then assure him, turning her gaze away from where Harry was huddled with Ron or Hermione across the room (never with both as the two of them were still not talking), hoping she had not been being too obvious. "I'm just worried about my O.W.L.s," she would usually add, reaching for the easy excuse. Dean never asked her anything beyond that, so either he always bought it or he was too afraid to question it. The looks Parvarti was giving her, however, told her that she would have to be less obvious.

Fortunately, that wasn't difficult. She hardly spoke to Harry over the next few weeks. He had clearly become obsessed with… something, as was often the case with him, and in passing Ginny had managed to catch vague mutterings between he and the other two about Draco Malfoy and, for some reason, Professor Slughorn.

Still, it didn't hurt to play it safe. This is what had led her to begin spending so much time in the library "studying". Dean had actually sat with her the first few times, but when it became clear that she was not going to welcome the sort of distraction he had in mind, his visits to the library became more and more infrequent.

Which had given Hermione the opportunity she had been waiting for, apparently, to come and confront Ginny about the very topics Ginny had been hoping to avoid discussing, at least until she had figured them out for herself. She was going to have to make it a point, she realized as she lay in bed later that night, to avoid speaking with Hermione alone for the time being.

Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't the only one noticing something was afoot. The day after their library discussion, Ginny was cornered after Quidditch practice by Demelza. "So what's going on with you?" asked the younger girl. "You've been distracted."

"I don't think so," Ginny said casually, forcing herself to keep her eyes on her shoes as she laced them up.

"You have," Demelza insisted. "Natalie says so, too. I've never seen you fly as poorly as you flew today."

Ginny grimaced. She had been awful today. She was far more interested, she found, in keeping one eye on the team Seeker than she was in keeping her eye on the Quaffle.

"I'm not allowed a poor practice?" Ginny asked as she straightened up.

"Of course you are," Demelza hastened to say. "It's just that..."

"Don't worry about me, D," Ginny said, throwing her bag over her back and heading for the door. "If it makes you feel better, next scrimmage I'll outscore you and Dean three-to-one. Promise." Demelza did not bring it up again.

Luna did, though. In Transfiguration the next day, Ginny glanced up from her copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ to see Luna peering at her. "What is it?" she whispered. Luna opened her eyes wide and smiled.

"You've figured it out!" she said brightly.

"No," Ginny answered irritably, burying her nose back in her book. "I loathe Transfiguration, you know that."

"Not this!" Luna answered impatiently, closing Ginny's book. Ginny looked up in surprise; she had never heard Luna sound impatient before. "You've figured it out!"

"No, I haven't," Ginny said, beginning to realize what Luna was talking about.

"Of course you have!"

"I haven't!"

"Just because you're lying to me doesn't change the truth," Luna said in her disconcerting matter-of-fact way. Before Ginny could think of a response, Professor McGonagall stepped in.

"Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood, if you don't mind!"

"We don't, Professor!" Luna answered brightly.

"Sorry, Professor!" Ginny said quickly, and she and Luna continued to work in silence. If Ginny hadn't known better, she'd say that the smile on Luna's face wasn't her usual vacantly pleasant smile but was instead borne out of smugness.

Professor McGonagall wasn't the only teacher to single Ginny out. Professor Snape was being particularly vile to her this term, but that frankly wasn't out of the ordinary. Professor Flitwick pulled her aside after Charms class one mid-February day to ask her about her waning attention and grade in what was traditionally her best subject. Ginny told him that she had been having "female troubles", and the old professor blushed furiously, mumbled something along the lines of "I do hope everything turns out all right," and never mentioned it again.

It was Professor Slughorn, though, who managed to wake her from her semester long slumber. "Miss Weasley, a moment!" he called to her as the fifth years filed out of Potions one day after class. Ginny approached Slughorn's desk as the portly teacher sat himself behind it. "So I have been wondering, Miss Weasley… have you given any further thought to the Amortentia?"

It took Ginny a good ten seconds to remember what Slughorn was talking about. "Oh!" she exclaimed when her memory jogged back to her. "No, I… I forgot." It was the truth. Her mind had been so taken with other distractions that her curiosity over the mysterious third scent in the Amortentia had been completely set aside.

Slughorn chuckled. "It can be rather like a dream," he said with a wink. "Difficult to hold on to that aroma, not unlike love itself. Still, if you do happen to recall it…" he leaned in closer to her here… "remember an old man's curiosity, won't you?"

Ginny walked out of Slughorn's classroom feeling slightly _Stupefied_. The Amortentia, of course! She had completely forgotten about it! And given her current state, her current obsession… well, if she managed to figure out what it was she had smelled in that potion, maybe it would bring her one step closer to sorting out her emotions. It was a long shot, she realized, but at this point she was willing to try anything, as she had been angsting about this over the better part of two months.

Two months?

Ginny stopped where she stood in the hallway. It was almost March 1st. It had been close to two months since the start of term. Had she really been slumping around in a fog for almost two months worrying about boys? She had been, hadn't she? It was the end of February, after all. They had been back since January 5th. No wonder people were starting to become suspicious. Why, she and Dean hadn't even done anything of note on Valentine's Day, just dinner in the Great Hall. She hadn't even worn any make-up or perfume, having shoved all of those particularly feminine things into the bottom of her trunk shortly after returning to school after the holidays. Was this really how she was going to be from now on? What was she, a fifteen year old girl?

All right, she was, but that was hardly the point.

She clenched her jaw. It was time to stop being a mope. That was not who she was. _Attagirl!_ said the voice in the back of her head.

She marched into the common room. Dean and Seamus were there, holding court with Neville, Parvati, and most of Gryffindor Quidditch, excluding Harry and Ron. "Ginny!" called Dean, waving her over.

Ginny marched over to where they were sitting, grabbing Dean and kissing him aggressively to a chorus of "Woo-hoos!" She sat next to him, pushing Seamus aside as she did so, Dean grinning like a thief in the night. From across the room, Hermione gave her a questioning look. Ginny stuck her tongue out at the elder girl, and Hermione responded with a disapproving frown, returning then to her homework. Admittedly, Ginny realized as she chattered away happily with her boyfriend-at-the-moment, this sort of behavior would not sort out her more immediate problems. But it would certainly attract less suspicion than would trudging around the castle like a mope, and at least for now, Ginny once again found herself in charge.

Later that evening while lying in bed, her thoughts drifted back to Amortentia. Even if it led nowhere, at least the search for the third scent would give her something concrete to latch onto, something to actively and aggressively pursue. The problem was, even though she now knew what she was looking for, she herself still had no idea how or where to start looking. It had been so long ago since she had actually smelled the potion that she was finding it difficult to even recall the odor in question. Thinking back, she remembered the leather of a Quaffle, her mother's kitchen, and... a fireplace? The hearth at The Burrow? In the common room? That didn't seem quite right. She sighed in frustration and punched her pillow into shape for the umpteenth time. This one was stumping her. Fortunately, she knew exactly who to ask for advice.

She would just have to wait for the right opportunity to sneak a peek at Harry's copy of Advanced Potion Making and see what the Half Blood Prince had to say on the subject of Amortentia.

As it turned out she didn't have to wait much longer. Friday night brought the profoundly odd sight of Harry and Ron doing homework in the common room along with Lavender and Parvati. Ginny watched them from across the room, curled up on one of the couches and purportedly reading from her own text. Dean and Seamus had headed down to the kitchens to nick a bit of food, and this was probably the best opportunity she was going to get. She waited until Harry had crossed to the other side of the room to ask Hermione a question, or perhaps to beg her to do his Charms essay. Either way, Ron was still working on Potions, which gave Ginny maybe the best opening she was going to get.

"Homework on Friday?" she said as she slipped into the chair across from Ron. Lavender and Parvati were ensconced in some sort of gossip and barely noticed her arrival.

"Wanted to get it out of the way," he said with a shrug. "Tomorrow's my birthday, you know."

"I do. I just don't care."

"Thanks."

"So why not just put it off until Sunday?"

"Oh, you know..." Ron replied with a glance to the back of Lavender's head.

"Ah," said Ginny. "Say no more." Clearly, Lavender had decided for some reason that tonight would be a fine night to do homework. "Any big birthday plans?" Ginny asked.

"None now that Hogsmeade has been canceled," Ron said with a scowl.

Ginny nodded, and reached across the table to pick up Harry's copy of Advanced Potion Making. "What are you doing?" Ron asked sharply.

Ginny was not deterred. "Slughorn mentioned a potion in class the other day and it's not in our book," she explained. "I wanted to look it up."

"Well, why don't you use your boyfriend's book?"

"Do you see my boyfriend around?" Ginny asked. "Relax, I'm not going to turn it in. Who do I look like, Hermione?"

"What about Hermione?" Lavender said, quickly spinning to face them at the mention of She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

As Ron attempted to placate his girlfriend, Ginny quickly looked up Veritaserum, stuck her finger in the page to hold it, and then turned to the entry for Amortentia, skimming the page. The description of the spell was, Ginny assumed, fairly standard for a love potion: causes infatuation, obsession, unhealthy in large doses, can not replicate 'true' love, etc., etc... and the steps for making the potion itself were wildly complex. She had no intention of brewing a batch, but she did need more information then was provided by the textbook's actual author. Fortunately, there were additional notes to the entry provided by whoever this "Half Blood Prince" person was.

Ginny turned the book on its side to look at the handwritten notation in the margin. It read, "Ineffectual rubbish. The true power lies in the aroma: a cauldron flame, elf-made wine…" There was a third entry there, but it was scratched over in ink. Ginny slipped her wand from her pocket. "_Tergeo_," she muttered. The ink was so old and dried out that the charm didn't have very much effect. Still, by peering very closely and wiping away a few dried flakes of ink, she was able to make out the words "the thicket alongside the river."

"What are you looking at?"

"Veritaserum," Ginny answered her brother, who was eying her suspiciously now that Lavender had returned to her conversation with Parvati. Ginny flipped the book around to show him the page she had initially looked up and jammed her finger in to hold. "Slughorn was talking about it in class and I was curious about it."

"What, you're thinking of making a batch?" Ron asked as he took back Harry's book.

Ginny smirked. "I don't think so. Too complicated for me. Maybe Hermione could do it. Or the twins. Or Harry Potter, Potions genius."

"You know," Ron said thoughtfully, "I think old Sluggy had a batch of that stuff brewing the first day."

"Oh, right," Ginny pretended to remember. "He was setting up three cauldrons for the sixth years that first day as we left. One was Polyjuice Potion, and I guess one was Veritaserum." Ginny frowned as if trying hard to remember. "What was the third?"

"Dunno," shrugged Ron, turning back to his essay. Disappointed, Ginny started to get up, but Ron stopped her. "Waitasecond… it was a love potion. Forget the name of it, though. Strange stuff. It's supposed to smell of the things you like best in the world, I think. Don't reckon it worked, though."

"What'd you smell in it?" Ginny asked, legitimately curious.

"Um... food."

"What type of food?"

"All of it. And Quidditch."

"Really? What does Quidditch smell like?"

"Dunno. But it smelled like Quidditch."

"Those seem to line up, then," Ginny observed.

"Yeah," said Ron, "but I also smelled ink. Honestly, ink. I hate schoolwork. Makes no sense."

Ginny looked across the room to where Harry was sitting with Hermione. As was often the case, her hands were covered in ink. "You're right," she said drily. "That makes no sense at all."

Ron chuckled. "See? Rubbish. You need more proof? Listen to what Harry smelled in it: treacle tart, a broomstick, and flowers. Flowers. Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Right," Ginny said with a nod, not really listening anymore. "Ridiculous." She sat back in her chair, her brow furrowed. She peered over at Harry curiously, and looked around the room suspiciously. She was suddenly irritated with any girl in the room who had ever worn anything that smelled even remotely of flowers. She spent the rest of her evening distracted again, barely hearing what Dean or anyone else had to say to her, racking her brain… but she was no longer wondering what it was SHE had smelled in the Amortentia (although she was no closer to that answer than she had been the day before). Rather, she spent the evening, against her own better judgment, trying to figure out what (or, rather, who) HARRY had smelled in the Amortentia.

It wasn't until much later that evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, that she sat on the floor of her dormitory among the contents of her trunk. She had torn them out and strewn them around haphazardly after waking up with a start at three in the morning. She clutched tightly in her hand the small bottle of designer perfume that Fleur had purchased for her and that she had hidden at the bottom of her trunk, repeatedly and deeply inhaling its fragrance. She was incredulous, ecstatic, terrified, elated, and skeptical all at the same time. Her brain had been flash-fried and all logical thought had vanished without a trace, because her nose was telling her what her heart refused to believe.

The perfume… and she could not believe she had forgotten this, and she did not know how to allow herself to believe that this had any significance whatsoever… but the perfume smelled unmistakably of flowers.


	17. Chapter 16: Injured Reserves

As she idly stirred her oatmeal around, Ginny was very grateful for Apparition lessons.

In general, this was true. Although she could not attend herself, Dean could and did, so Apparition practice on every Saturday morning gave her at least an hour and a half where she did not have to worry about seeing him. She tried not to think about the implications involved in the fact that she did not want to see her boyfriend, because she frankly knew what those implications meant and was trying her best not to face them head on quite yet.

The events of the previous night were not helping things. So, on this particular morning of the first of March, she was extra grateful for Apparition practice: not only could she not bear seeing Dean just now, but she was fairly certain she couldn't handle seeing Harry at the moment, either.

Harry.

_Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry…_

She was trying hard not to think about the perfume and the flowers and the smell Harry had smelled in the Amortentia, according to Ron. Of course, Ron was often wrong about things, and was likely wrong about this, and even if he was there were many things, many, many things that smelled like flowers, not just the perfume she had been given and had worn and Harry had noticed so long ago that day back in The Burrow right before they had gone out for their first game of Two-a-Side Quidditch and why oh why did she remember so distinctly that he had smelled it then?

_YOU know why, dear._

It was absurd, she assured herself for the hundredth time. Utterly absurd. Harry Potter did not smell Ginny Weasley in the world's strongest love potion. It was a maddeningly lunatical thing to think, and though she was fairly certain that "lunatical" wasn't a word, it aptly described the fractured state of her thoughts at the moment.

"So what's up with you this morning?"

Ginny looked up from her oatmeal; she hadn't even realized she had been staring into it. Across the table from her Demelza and Natalie were looking far too smug. "What's up with who this morning?" Ginny asked, struggling to bring her senses back to bear.

"You," Demelza replied. "You've been sitting here staring into your cereal for ten minutes with a stupid grin on your face."

"Have I?" Ginny asked innocently while cursing herself internally. She was going to have to be more careful where her thoughts wandered off to in public.

"Yes, you have," Natalie said. "Just what did you and Dean get up to last night?"

"Nothing," Ginny said honestly.

"Really?" asked Demelza, sounding disappointed.

"Really," Ginny assured her.

"Then who put that stupid grin on your face?" Natalie demanded.

"Nobody."

"So what DID you get up to last night? You left the common room early."

"Well…" Ginny thought about it for a moment and then decided that nothing would throw the two of them off the scent better than the truth. After all, they were not Hermione Granger. "I just sat up in my room for a few hours, smelling my perfume," said Ginny with a shrug.

The two girls stared at her for a few moments. It took all of Ginny's willpower not to break into laughter. "All right!" said Natalie loudly, breaking the silence. "She's gone mental!"

Natalie got up and walked back to her seat further down the table, but Demelza stayed put. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked. "I don't under…"

"Miss Robins." Ginny jumped in her seat; she had not heard Professor McGonagall approaching. "I must speak with Miss Weasley. Would you excuse us?"

"Yes, Professor," Demelza said, quickly getting to her feet and heading back to where she had been sitting with Natalie. Ginny turned around, craning her neck up to see Professor McGonagall standing over her, a concerned look etched across her face.

"Miss Weasley, come with me," McGonagall said quietly. "Quickly, now."

The professor headed for the exit to the Great Hall and Ginny followed, her mind spinning. What had she done wrong to cause McGonagall to come and get her during breakfast? What had happened?

As they exited into the hallway, Ginny took long strides to keep up. "Professor, what is it?" she asked. "Where are we going?"

"The hospital wing," said Professor McGonagall, tight lipped and looking straight ahead.

"The hospital wing?" Ginny asked. "Why? What happened to Harry now?"

"I understand your assumption," Professor McGonagall told her, still looking straight ahead and moving swiftly. "But this time it is not Mr. Potter who has found himself in the hospital wing. It is your brother."

Ginny stopped in her tracks. "Ron? What happened?"

Professor McGonagall hesitated, turning to face Ginny. "Perhaps it will be best for Mr. Potter to explain..." she began, but Ginny didn't hear the rest. She had broken into a run ahead of her teacher, climbing up steps two at a time, ducking through secret passages, sprinting full-bore until she reached the hospital wing on the third floor.

Harry sat on a bench outside the doors of the wing, staring at the ground in front of him, brow furrowed and lost in thought. "Potter!" Ginny demanded. "What did you do to my brother?"

Harry looked up at her, but he didn't look guilty. "I think I might have saved his life," Harry answered.

When his eyes met her, she was knocked for a bit of a loop. In her concern about Ron, she had forgotten all about the madcap journey her emotions (and her sense of smell) had taken her on the night before. She fleetingly wished she had remembered to put some perfume on this morning, but pushed that thought aside as firmly as she could. Now was not the time. "You saved his life?" Ginny repeated quietly. "Well. That makes more sense, doesn't it?"

"Of course it does!" Professor McGonagall said sharply from behind her. Ginny was only slightly surprised that the professor had managed to keep up so closely with her as she ran through the halls. "I'd think you'd have realized by now, Miss Weasley, that when it comes to your family, Mr. Potter is more often a help than a hindrance."

"Yeah, I've figured that out," Ginny muttered, fighting the blush out of her cheeks. "So what happened to Ron? Can we go in?"

"Not yet," Professor McGonagall said. "He still needs his rest, and Madame Pomfrey needs room to work. As for what happened, he was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Ginny shouted. "Who would poison Ron?"

"Mr. Potter will give you the details," Professor McGonagall replied. "Fear not. Madame Pomfrey assures us that your brother will make a full recovery. It will take some bed rest and some rather distasteful potions, but recover he shall. Now. I must go send for Professor Dumbledore, but before I do I shall fetch Miss Granger. Where is she?"

"Apparition practice," Harry answered her. "But I should tell you, Professor, that she and Ron aren't really speaking at the moment."

"Nevertheless, I shall go and fetch her," Professor McGonagall sniffed, turning as she did so.

"Professor!" Harry called after her. "He's dating Lavender Brown!" Ginny shot Harry a dirty look; still, she understood why he thought to bring it up, much as she loathed the girl. "Should you go get Lavender, too?"

Professor McGonagall studied him for a moment, and then declared, "I think, perhaps, only family for the time being, Mr. Potter. I shall send Miss Granger along shortly."

"But Hermione and I aren't... " Professor McGonagall turned the corner, though, effectively ending the exchange.

"So what happened?" Ginny asked Harry.

"It was a box of chocolates," Harry explained. "Spiked with love potion."

"Who would send my brother a box of chocolates spiked with love potion?"

Harry looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. "Er... it wasn't for Ron. It was for me. It got mixed up with his birthday presents."

Ginny sank onto the bench outside the door. "Merlin, it's his birthday," she said miserably. "I completely forgot." Harry sat on the bench opposite her. For a moment, they sat together in silence. Then Ginny realized. "Just a moment," she asked. "Who would send YOU a box of love-potion-filled chocolates?"

Harry sighed. "Romilda Vane, apparently. At least, that's who Ron thought he was dumb-struck in love with after he ate them."

Ginny hoped that Harry could not hear the grinding of her teeth. "Romilda Vane, eh?" she asked. "I think I actually prefer Lavender. So where did the poison come in? Was the potion spoiled?"

"No, apparently it gets stronger with age, and these chocolates were back from last term."

"Lucky Ron."

"I took him to Slughorn's office for an antidote. He whipped one up, and then once Ron realized what he had done... "

"What did he do aside from embarrass himself in front of you?" Ginny wondered.

Harry half-smiled. "He pushed Lavender aside as I brought him through the common room, demanding to see Romilda, for starters."

Ginny snorted back a laugh. "There's the silver lining, then."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Did you just snort?"

"I did," she replied with the ghost of a grin dancing across her face. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"None at all," Harry replied innocently.

"Good," Ginny said, her losing her smile. "So could you please get to the part where my brother was poisoned?"

Harry nodded, his own hint of a smile fading. "So Ron drank Slughorn's antidote, and then to lift his spirits, Slughorn poured us all a drink out of a bottle of mead he had tucked away. Ron's the only one who actually took a sip of it, and..."

"... that's what was poisoned," Ginny completed quietly. Harry nodded. They sat in silence for a moment. "Lucky Slughorn happened to have the antidote to that particular poison. Almost too lucky, actually," she added. "It's almost suspicious."

"No need to suspect," Harry said. "He didn't have the antidote. I used a bezoar."

"A bezoar?"

"First year potions," Harry explained. "Comes from a goat's stomach. Acts as an antidote to most poisons."

"First year potions?" Who was he kidding? "And you remembered the bezoar, of course," Ginny said wryly, "because of the Prince, didn't you?"

"Let's give it a rest against the Prince, all right?" Harry asked with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, I read about bezoars in the Prince's copy of 'Advanced Potion Making'. He wrote about them in the chapter on poisons and antidotes, and lucky for Ron that he did, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Ginny admitted. She wasn't going to tell Harry, but she was beginning to warm up to the Prince's potions textbook. It had certainly clarified… things… about Amortentia for her. "So Slughorn used a bezoar?"

"No," Harry corrected her. "Slughorn froze. Ron was sputtering and choking and... well, anyway," Harry moved on hastily as Ginny felt herself go pale, "Slughorn didn't seem to know what to do, and I knew he had a bezoar in his bag because I had given it to him that week in Potions, so I grabbed it and got it down Ron's throat. His breathing eased up, Slughorn ran and got help, McGonagall and Pomfrey showed up and brought Ron here..."

"HARRY!"

Harry and Ginny both turned to see Hermione come running up the corridor. She was, for lack of a better word, hysterical. "Harry, what happened?" she near shouted as she skidded to a stop in front of Harry, grabbing his shoulders for support. "What happened? Where's Ron? Is he all right?"

"He'll be fine, Hermione," Harry assured her, lowering her down to a seat on the bench, but Hermione jumped straight back up and marched towards the door to the hospital wing. Ginny barely grabbed her arm in time to pull her back.

"Hermione, you can't go in there!" she said. "Madame Pomfrey is looking after Ron right now!"

"Let go of me, Ginny, I can help!" Hermione tugged hard but Ginny held fast.

"Not in this state you can't," Ginny coolly replied. "Now sit down!"

"Ginny, you let go of me this instant, or so help me Merlin…" Hermione's wand had suddenly appeared in her hand, and Ginny responded in kind.

"All right, hold it!" barked Harry, jumping in between the two of them and separating them. "Have you both gone mental?"

"She pulled her wand first," Ginny muttered, shoving hers back into her jeans.

"Well, you wouldn't let go of me!" Hermione countered, her wand still in her hand but no longer pointed at Ginny's face.

"I wouldn't have had to hold on to you if you hadn't lost your bloody - "

"Enough!" bellowed Harry, and that shut them both up. "Hermione, Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall both said Ron cut it close, but he's going to be fine," Harry assured her as he steered her back to a bench. He then began to tell her the story he had told Ginny about the events of the morning, although Ginny did note that in the version Hermione heard, Ron accidentally ingested "a potion" and not "a love potion".

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said quietly after he had finished. "I haven't said a word to him in weeks. Not a word. What if I never… what if he… what if…"

She trailed off and stared blankly ahead. They all sat together for just a moment in silence, and then Hermione stood up and again headed for the hospital wing door.

"Hermione, you can't go in!" Ginny again insisted, but this time Hermione did not make a move to open the doorway. She simply stood next to it, arms folded, peering in through the little window at the top of the door, far away in her own world. Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. They both knew.

"So," Ginny said loudly to Harry, partially in an effort to change the subject and partially to give Hermione her solitude. "Any ideas about who could have poisoned that bottle?"

"I have a few," Harry said with a nod. "And my list starts with…"

"No, wait, let me guess," Ginny interrupted. "Draco Malfoy?"

"That obvious, am I?" Harry grumbled, throwing a glance in Hermione's direction, but if she objected to his theory she was too far gone in her own thoughts to verbalize a protestation.

"You do have a track record with him," Ginny said grimly. "But for argument's sake, who else could have or would have done it?"

And so they spent the next several hours going down a list of possible suspects, some realistic, some outlandish, some unexpected, and some downright comical (much of a kick as she'd get seeing him carted off to Azkaban for attempted murder, she highly doubted Zacharias Smith had anything to do with this, and though Filch would almost be an inspired candidate for the Imperius Curse, they very much doubted that was the case.) They stopped only to try and overhear the comments of the few people who hurried past, and attempted to peek into the hospital wing proper as Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore traversed in and out the doors, or as Madame Pomfrey made one of her many scurrying trips past to get more stores from elsewhere in the castle. They talked through to seven o'clock when Ginny's parents showed up to briefly look in on Ron and hug them all before hurrying up to Dumbledore's office to discuss the day's startling events.

Through all of this, Hermione did not say a single word. Even when they were finally allowed in to see Ron at eight o'clock, and were joined ten minutes thereafter by Fred and George, Hermione did not speak.

"So you think Slughorn's a Death Eater?" Ginny asked Fred as they all gathered around Ron's bed. It was ground that she and Harry had covered hours earlier, but given the seriousness of the circumstances the topic still seemed fresh and she was glad to discuss it with her brothers.

"Anything's possible," Fred answered grimly.

"He could," added George, "be under the Imperius Curse."

"Or he could be innocent," Ginny pointed out, her own suspicions of Slughorn in this case long forgotten after Harry's description of his hapless part in the whole affair. "The poison could have been in the bottle, in which case it was probably meant for Slughorn himself."

"Who'd want to kill Slughorn?" George asked.

"Dumbledore reckons Voldemort wanted Slughorn on his side," Harry replied. "Slughorn was in hiding for a year before he came to Hogwarts. And..." Harry paused. There was some piece to the Slughorn puzzle that he was not sharing. "... and maybe," he continued, "Voldemort wants him out of the way, maybe he thinks he could be valuable to Dumbledore."

"But you said Slughorn had been planning to give that bottle to Dumbledore for Christmas," Ginny said, and not for the first time. Again, they'd been at this for awhile. "So the poisoner could just as easily have been after Dumbledore."

And then a voice spoke up that hadn't been heard from in quite awhile. "Then the poisoner didn't know Slughorn very well," Hermione said, her words hoarse from disuse and blocked behind a congestion that presumably had nothing to do with a cold. "Anyone who knew Slughorn would have known there was a good chance he'd keep something that tasty for himself."

"Er-my-nee," croaked Ron, and everyone fell silent. Ginny gasped a little, looking from her resting brother to Hermione, whose face had been hidden all day behind a mask of barely restrained tears but which now had lit up with the glow of a constellation's worth of stars at the sound of the unconscious Ron muttering her name. It might have been the sweetest thing Ginny had ever seen. Glancing at Harry and the twins she realized she was the only one who understood what had just happened, and any chance they'd catch on to it a moment or too afterward was shattered when Hagrid burst through the doors to the hospital wing, setting off a whole new round of 'whodunnit' theories, each one more ludicrous than the last. (Ginny highly doubted Hagrid's theory that somebody was trying to bump off the Gryffindor Quidditch team.)

Finally Ginny's parents returned from their meeting with Dumbledore, where no doubt even more theories as to who was behind Ron's poisoning were bandied about. "Oh, Harry, what can we say?" Ginny's mum sobbed while embracing him tightly. "You saved Ginny... you saved Arthur... now you've saved Ron..."

"Don't be... I didn't..." Harry muttered, half embarrassed, half crushed.

"Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it," her father agreed in a constricted voice. Ginny glanced to the twins; they were nodding in somber agreement. "Well, all I can say is that it was a very lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the the Hogwarts Express, Harry."

Ginny thought about this statement later that night as she lay in bed. Harry did have a knack for saving Weasleys, didn't he? Still, she was not so certain it was as simple as that. Would Harry have gone into the Chamber of Secrets after any student? Was it just because she was Ron's little sister that he jumped in after her? Even if he did not spend so much time at The Burrow, he certainly would have known about Voldemort's snake attacking her father in the Department of Mysteries. And if it hadn't been her father who was attacked, would he have acted any less quickly to save the life of another Order member? Certainly his friendship with Ron led him to be the one to guide her brother to Slughorn looking for an antidote to that love potion. Was it only because he was Harry Potter that he was able to think of a bezoar? Any other Hogwarts student that Ron might be best friends with should theoretically know what a bezoar could do.

Was it mere coincidence that Harry so often seemed to intervene in the fate of the Weasleys or was it something more? Whatever the case, Ginny concluded as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, it seemed that she and her family were inextricably linked to Harry, and whatever her own tangled up feelings towards him meant, that fact was unlikely to change anytime soon.

Ginny was dragging the next day as she headed down to breakfast; likely this was the result of having stayed with Ron and her family in the hospital wing until well into the wee hours. "How's Ron?" Dean asked with concern as she sat next to him at the Gryffindor table.

"Fine," Ginny answered. "Just needs some bed rest."

"What happened?" Seamus asked, leaning across the table to snag a biscuit. "They say he was poisoned."

Ginny just shrugged. She really didn't feel much like talking about it. "Something like that, yes," she replied.

"Something like that?" Parvati asked from next to Seamus. "Was he poisoned or wasn't he?"

"He was poisoned, Parvati," Ginny replied. "But it happened in Slughorn's office, and it was an accident, so..." She drifted off and began buttering a roll. She did not feel much like having the 'who could it be?' conversation with this lot, frankly.

"At the very least somebody could have told Lavender," Parvati said.

"McGonagall decided that only family should be up there last night as they figured out what happened."

"Harry and Hermione aren't Weasleys!" Parvati exclaimed.

"Give it time," Seamus muttered, then quickly added, "For Hermione!" off of Dean's nasty look. Ginny ignored him. Parvati didn't.

"That's nice, Seamus," she chided him. "That's my best friend's boyfriend, you know!" At this, Seamus suddenly remembered something he had to do elsewhere and quickly got up.

"Lavender didn't know about Ron until this morning?" Ginny asked Parvati as Seamus high-tailed it away. "She didn't notice he was missing all day yesterday?"

"Well, we wondered about it, but we didn't pay it much attention," Parvati replied. "We assumed he was just off rambling around on some ridiculous adventure or another with Harry."

Ginny nodded. "Fair enough."

"Weasley! Thomas!" Two large hands descended, one each on Dean and Ginny's shoulders. Wincing with pain, Ginny looked up into the grinning countenance of Cormac McLaggen. "Looks like we'll be teammates, eh? Very exciting! And about time too, if I do say so myself. Oh, no offense to your brother, Weasley," McLaggen hastened to add, pulling his hand away from the sudden withering look Ginny was giving him. "But let's get real here. I've got some suggestions for you two and that Desdemona girl..."

"Demelza," Ginny corrected him. He didn't hear.

"... should really help sharpen up the Chaser formations. Keeper's supposed to be team leader, you know. See what it's like later to have a real one for a change." And with a clap on their shoulders that was meant to be friendly but came off as obnoxious, McLaggen was off.

"What on Earth was that all about?" Dean wondered aloud, rubbing his shoulder where McLaggen had tried his best to crush it.

"It means," Ginny said with a scowl, rubbing her shoulder as well, "that Harry's found a replacement for my brother." Without another word to Dean, she got up and marched further down the table to where Harry and Hermione were sitting, Hermione reading the Daily Prophet and Harry intently studying something that looked like an old piece of parchment. "Oi!" Ginny barked. Hermione looked up and Harry quickly shoved the parchment into his bag; it dawned on Ginny that it was Sunday and it was peculiar that Harry had his bag with him at breakfast at all. She wondered what was on that parchment... but only for a moment, because just then Harry looked at her with a sheepish grin and she entirely forgot why she had come over to him.

"Yes, Ginny?" Hermione said, smiling innocently. Ginny gave her head the briefest of shakes; she had been so busy wondering if Harry could smell the perfume she had dabbed on this morning that Hermione's presence had slipped her mind. Clearly the older girl had caught her gape-mouthed expression.

"McLaggen. McLaggen!" Ginny said, hauling her thoughts back on-track. "Cormac McLaggen. You asked him to replace Ron at Keeper? Are you mental?"

"I didn't want to, trust me," Harry said with a frown. "He cornered me in the common room last night after I got back from the hospital wing. Besides, what other choice do I have? There's no one else in Gryffindor even halfway decent at Keeper."

Ginny sighed, tilting her head back as she did so. "I know, I know," she begrudgingly admitted. "He's such a prat, though. Really."

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he'll calm down once he gets on the pitch."

"Well, I'm against it," Hermione said, flipping the Daily Prophet back open. "Cormac is far too aggressive to play Keeper."

"The Keeper needs to be fairly aggressive, actually," Harry pointed out.

Hermione glared at him from over her paper. "Not THAT aggressive. I have had about all I can stand of Cormac McLaggen."

"I'll bet you have," Ginny replied with a grin, drawing a dirty look from Hermione, and then a sinister smile.

Hermione gave the air a pointed sniff. "Tell me, Ginny... are you wearing perfume? Seems an odd choice for a Sunday morning." It was now Ginny's turn to shoot her friend a dirty look, but a quick glance at Harry confirmed that he hadn't heard Hermione's comments; he was distracted again and looking across the room. Ginny followed his gaze to the Slytherin table, but as Draco Malfoy wasn't there she couldn't imagine what at the table had his interest.

"I'm off to visit Ron," Hermione said, standing and folding the Prophet under her arm. "He'll be wanting to know if anyone died, I'm sure."

"That's some cheery bedside conversation," Ginny observed. "I'll be up after I finish breakfast."

"How about you, Harry?" Hermione asked, but Harry didn't seem to be listening; he was still intently studying the Slytherin table. "Harry!" Hermione repeated, more insistently.

"I'll be by later," Harry said, glancing at her. "I have some... things... to do first."

Ginny didn't know what he was talking about and did not expect anyone to explain it to her. Hermione, however, seemed to know exactly what he was talking about, and seemed not to like it. "Which 'things' are you doing?" she demanded to know. "The 'things' you're supposed to be doing, or the other 'things' which are a colossal waste of time?"

"They aren't," Harry shot back at her.

"They are," Hermione retorted

"Right, lovely," Ginny cut in. "Well, I won't keep you two from arguing about 'things'. Merlin forbid you tell me what these 'things' are and get my opinion on which is more important." Mildly irritated, she returned to her seat to finish her breakfast, not really hearing as Dean and Parvati discussed the apparition practice from the day prior, and watching as Harry and Hermione argued quietly to themselves for a few moments more before Hermione finally got up shaking her head and heading for the door. Harry got up just a minute afterwards and headed for the door himself, slyly pulling that same piece of old parchment he had been studying intently out of his bag as he went.

What was on the parchment was a mystery that she simply did not have the time and energy to try and solve, with all of the other things spinning around in her head. Ron's injury, the following weekend's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff (now featuring fifteen percent more Cormac McLaggen), her dreams, her perfume, Amortentia... it all seemed to be working together in concert to irritate her as much as humanly possible.

McLaggen turned out to be twice as obnoxious as any of the Quidditch team could have dreaded; in practices he almost came to blows at various points with Peakes, Coote, Demelza, and Dean, respectively. She continued to rack her brain about the Amortentia and what it might have been she had smelled in it, but was no closer to figuring it out than she had been that first day of the school year in the Potions classroom. The revelation that Harry might possibly have detected something in Amortentia that could maybe have been reminiscent of her was also effectively keeping her off-balance and distracted, which led to her performance on the Quidditch pitch suffering as she couldn't help but keep one eye on Harry, which gave McLaggen an excuse to criticize her, which only served to irritate her further... really, it was all a vicious cycle.

Most irritating of all, however, might have been Harry. Although she didn't like to admit it to herself, she realized that she was looking for opportunities to engage him in one-on-one conversation without raising anyone's suspicions (Dean always seemed to be around, though, and this was irritating in its own right). Harry had no interest in this, and was always running off to mutter and argue intensely about something or other in the corner with Hermione. If Harry had smelled her perfume in Amortentia (and as the week went on she was getting more and more convinced that he hadn't) then Ginny decided Amortentia was more likely a repulsion potion than a love potion. Harry was displaying no interest whatsoever in discussing with her the irritable nature of Cormac McLaggen, or Quidditch strategy, or who it was who may have poisoned Ron, or anything else at all. She could hardly even flag him down for a half-muttered word without him disappearing through the portrait hole for hours at a time, digging into his bag for that old parchment and most likely that invisibility cloak she wasn't supposed to know existed.

The most frustrating part of it was that outside of the hospital wing, waiting to see Ron, Ginny had been part of these conversations that Harry and Hermione were continuing to have, and now... she wasn't. _And so it goes_, Ginny thought sourly to herself as she watched the two of them huddled up in a corner on the other side of the common room. "Nothing!" she snapped at Dean undeservedly when he asked what was wrong. Some days being left out didn't bother her. Some days it did. This week was full of the latter.

Most amazingly, Harry was so obsessed with whatever-it-was he was obsessed with that he did not even seem interested in Quidditch, getting to practices right as they were scheduled to start and hurrying away from the pitch as soon as they was over. His behavior was such all week that by the Saturday of the match, when he rushed into the changing room with minutes to spare before the whistle, the whole team dressed and waiting for him, Ginny had had enough. "Where you been?" she demanded.

"I met Malfoy," Harry muttered just loudly enough for her to hear as he threw on his Quidditch robes.

"So?"

"So I wanted to know how come he's up at the castle with a couple of girlfriends while everyone else is down here..."

Malfoy. Is that what he had been getting on about all week? Even if Harry's hunch was on, Ginny was too agitated just then to care. "Does it matter right now?" she asked with a sigh as the team began to disperse ahead of them towards the pitch.

"Well, I'm not likely to find out, am I?" Harry said crossly, snatching his Firebolt and straightening his glasses. "Come on, then!"

It wasn't until she was streaking down the pitch with the Quaffle in hand that she remembered: she had seen Malfoy herself right before the first Quidditch match with another one of his little girlfriends, skulking around the hallways and skipping the match. The sudden memory so distracted her that she didn't even see the Hufflepuff lead Chaser, a big bloke named Cadwallader, until he was almost on top of her, snatching the Quaffle from her grip.

"... that big Hufflepuff player's got the Quaffle from her, I can't remember his name, it's something like Bibble..."

Trying not to chuckle at Luna's commentary (she could kiss McGonagall for allowing that to happen) Ginny bore down after Cadwallader, but he had too large of a head start and though she was gaining rapidly on him, she knew already this score would come down to him versus McLaggen.

"Oi! Weasley!" Ginny looked up in disbelief; McLaggen had drifted away from the goal hoops and was yelling to her. "Keep your head in the game!" he shouted as Cadwallader hurled the Quaffle past him and through the hoop. "You can't give up the Quaffle like that!"

"McLaggen, will you pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing and leave everyone else alone!" Harry bellowed at them from above.

A red-faced McLaggen turned up to Harry. "You're not setting a great example!" he shouted back.

"What's gotten into him?" Demelza wondered, flying up alongside Ginny.

"McLaggen?" she replied. "He's always like that. Where have you been?"

"Not him," Demelza said, shaking her head. "Harry."

But then they were off, moving the Quaffle downfield, Ginny trying not to be distracted by Luna's commentary and Demelza's comment. She scored a goal, drawing cheers from the red-and-gold-clad Gryffindor supporters, and then she stole a look at Harry. He was clearly not on his game, speeding around this way and that, frantically searching out the Snitch. She could tell by his body language that he was not in the game at all, and that half his mind was very likely wandering the halls of the castle, trying to figure out was Draco Malfoy was up to.

_Give it a rest,_ she thought grumpily to herself, streaking off down the pitch and running interference for Demelza. Truthfully, much as it had all week long, Harry's behavior was making her glad that what was clearly just her childhood crush was again fading away. She had been just awful to Dean lately, and he was completely undeserving of it... she would have to make it up to him at the victory party, if only Harry would get his mind off of Draco Malfoy long enough to find the...

"GINNY! LOOK OUT!"

She ducked just in time to avoid being sideswiped by a streaking Cadwallader, again tearing down the pitch and again scoring a goal. She exhaled a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding as Dean flew up to her. "You all right?" he asked, concern evident in his face.

"Fine," Ginny answered. "Thanks for the warning."

Dean shook his head. "Why are you so distracted?" he asked. Ginny wasn't sure if the sudden shock of irritation that coursed through her just then was directed at Dean for asking, at herself for being distracted, or at Harry for being so distracting.

Fortunately, Luna changed the subject. "Oh, look!" came her magically amplified voice. "The Gryffindor Keeper's got hold of one of the Beater's bats." Ginny and Dean spun their heads to look down the pitch. Sure enough, there was McLaggen, demonstrating to a stunned Peakes the proper technique with which to hit a Bludger as if they were in the middle of a practice session and not a hotly contested match.

Ginny felt more than saw Harry flying in from above her towards McLaggen, shouting as he did, "Will you give him back his bat and get back to the goalposts!"

The next happened in slow motion. Harry drew closer to McLaggen just as McLaggen drew the bat back and swung it hard at an oncoming Bludger. The Bludger went hurtling off of the bat at an awkward upward angle (McLaggen's technique was terrible)... and with a sickening THWUCK! it connected hard with Harry's skull.

The sound drained from the world. Almost gracefully, Harry's unconscious form slid off of his Firebolt and fell towards the ground below. A single voice shattered the silence with a violent cry of "HARRY!" Ginny was already speeding towards his falling form when she realized that the voice had been hers. She was bent over low on her broom, falling as much as she was flying, but she knew, she could already tell, that much like with Cadwallader earlier, she wouldn't reach him in time... she willed herself, willed her broom, to go faster, just a little bit faster...

But out of nowhere swooped Coote and Peakes, the Beaters reaching Harry at the same time, grabbing him under the arms and lowering him gently to the ground. Ginny pulled up on her broom, screeching to a halt, tumbling free in a half roll as her heels hit the ground, dropping her broom and scrambling towards Harry's body, pushing the two younger boys out of the way. "Harry!" she cried, grabbing his shoulders. "Are you all right? Harry, can you hear me? Harry? Harry!"

And then hands had grasped her shoulders, pulling her back firmly. "Let me go!" she cried. "He needs help!"

"Yes he does," Madame Hooch said sternly. "But not from you."

Madame Pomfrey was now hunched over Harry; as she examined him Professor McGonagall joined them, as did Hermione. Ginny was dimly aware of the murmuring of the surrounding crowd, and the rest of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams gathered several yards away, shifting nervously on their feet. "How is he, Poppy?" McGonagall asked.

"Fine, fine," Madame Pomfrey said, straightening up. "Just a cracked skull. Nothing serious. I've already mended it." She waved her wand over Harry, and he went rigid, floating up into the air until he was suspended next to her at waist level. "Coming to these matches was the right idea," Madame Pomfrey said almost cheerily. "Eliminates the middle man and such. Right, then. I'll bring him up."

"I'll join you," Professor McGonagall said.

"Wait!" cried Hermione, scooping something up from the ground. "_Oculus Reparo_," she muttered, her wand pointed at Harry's shattered glasses, and after they fixed themselves she handed them to Professor McGonagall, who took them with a curt nod and then led Madame Pomfrey and the unconscious Harry off of the pitch.

Hermione turned to Ginny. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Ginny closed her eyes and nodded, turning away from Hermione. "Just... just give me a moment, won't you?" she said quietly. Her eyes closed, the image of Harry falling kept playing in the darkness on a loop...

She had not reacted rationally, she knew. Now that the excitement was over and Harry was (relatively) fine, she could see that. She had not reacted as one might react when a stranger or even a casual acquaintance was in trouble. She had reacted as if her own blood were being spilled out there.

Harry was tied inextricably to the Weasleys, to her family, to her, and she was beginning to suspect it was in ways she could not even conceive. Any irritation she had felt towards him minutes earlier was a distant memory, replaced with an overwhelming flood of relief that he was all right.

"Are you all right?"

That was the question of the day, wasn't it? Ginny forced herself to open her eyes, forced her voice not to waver. "I'm fine," she assured Hermione. "Really, I am. Just had a bit of a start."

Hermione nodded her sympathy. "You get used to it," she said.

"Really?"

Hermione's head changed directions. "No," she said. "Not really."

"Gryffindor!" Madame Hooch called out. Hermione gave Ginny's arm a squeeze and headed back to the stands, and Ginny joined her teammates gathered around Madame Hooch. "Gryffindor, you are now one player short. Do you have a reserve?"

"All of our reserves have been cursed or have had their heads cracked open," Coote answered. "Just another year at Hogwarts, eh?"

"Inappropriate, Beater," chastised Madame Hooch. "Gryffindor, you have two choices: play shorthanded, or forfeit. Which is it?"

McLaggen cleared his throat. "Well, seeing as how the captain has been put out of action, I guess that makes me..."

"... dirt," finished Peakes, to the appreciative grins and glares of his teammates. McLaggen fell silent.

"We know who's NOT in charge," Madame Hooch said, eying McLaggen distastefully herself. "So who IS in charge?"

Everyone's eyes turned to Ginny. "What are you, joking?" she asked.

"You're senior member," Demelza reminded her.

"And our best player," Coote added, much to Ginny's embarrassment.

"So, Miss Weasley?" Madame Hooch asked. "Do you forfeit?"

Ginny looked to the team, all of their questioning eyes on her.

Forfeit?

"Hmmph," Ginny humphed. "Not bloody likely."

Madame Hooch nodded curtly, a respectful smile upon her lips. "Good, then," she said. "We resume in one minute." She blew her whistle, cried, "Players, to your positions!" and she took to the air followed by the Hufflepuffs.

The Gryffindor team turned to Ginny. "Just terrific," McLaggen said with a frown. "What do you suggest we do now?"

"We couldn't just quit!" Demelza snapped at him. He just shrugged and took to the air. Demelza and the rest of the team looked to Ginny again. "What WILL we do?" she asked.

"I'll play Seeker and Chaser. Relax, I can manage," Ginny said, cutting off their questions. "It'll be just like playing Two-a-Side Quidditch."

"How can you play Two-a-Side Quidditch?" Dean asked.

"You can't," Ginny grumbled, and took off.

This was not going to be pretty.


	18. Chapter 17: Motivation

"On an up note," Seamus said, "the McLaggens of the world make the Snapes of the world seem pretty decent, don't they?"

Ginny forced a smile at that one, and most of the rest of the team managed to as well. There wasn't much to smile about, really, and the mood in the Gryffindor common room resembled that of a funeral. There were, at present, five surviving members of the Quidditch team: Ginny, Dean, Coote, Peakes, and Demelza, Katie having been cursed, Ron having been poisoned, Harry having been concussed, and McLaggen having been ostracized. They sat gloomily around the fire, Ginny and Dean sitting on the couch with Seamus and the younger three sitting on the floor, as students passed one by one muttering half-hearted reassurances of "good game" and "get 'em next time" to the bedraggled team.

Ginny fumed. That git McLaggen... the image of him swinging Peakes's bat at the Bludger, the black ball launching off in the wrong direction and knocking Harry squarely on the forehead kept playing back, over and over in her mind. That fleeting feeling of helplessness as she flew towards him, accelerating as quickly as she could, knowing she'd never make it in time… if it hadn't been for Coote and Peakes…

"So, _Levicorpus_, then?" Dean asked.

Ginny snapped out of her reverie. "What?"

"_Levicorpus_," Dean repeated. "That toenail-hanging curse of Harry's. We could use that on McLaggen next practice in the changing room. Might be days before someone finds him."

"Is he going to still be on the team by next practice?" Demelza asked in disbelief.

"So we'll do it on top of the Astronomy Tower," Ginny said. "Even better. It's colder." Demelza nodded her approval and leaned back into Peakes's arms; Peakes, for his part, couldn't have looked happier at that decision.

"I don't think that's enough," Seamus said, shaking his head. "Maybe a _Levicorpus _followed by a good ol' fashioned Bat-Bogey Hex, Gin?"

"Bat-Bogey Hex?" asked Coote. "What is that and why don't I know it yet?"

"Ah, my young friend, you've never heard of the Bat-Bogey Hex?" Seamus asked with the put-on air of a wise sage. "That'd be Ginny's signature spell."

"Signature spell?" asked Demelza, puzzled. "What's a signature spell?"

Dean explained. "It's the spell she's best known for. A bit of a go-to spell, I s'pose. Never seen anyone use it with the same flair as Gin." At that, he put his arm around Ginny, clearly not wanting to be shown up by the younger Peakes. Ginny barely noticed, though; her seething thoughts were miles away.

Demelza stared thoughtfully into the fire. "I don't have a signature spell."

"You don't have to, really," said Ginny. "I don't suppose many students do. The Bat-Bogey has been… useful," she added, smiling thinly, the memories of her many successful hexes cast over the years flooding back to her. "Truth told, I'm thinking it may be time I gave it a rest. Well, it's a bit immature, don't you think?"

That last was directed to Seamus, who had given her a puzzled look. He shrugged. "I dunno... if I could cast a spell that forced snot monsters to climb out of my enemies' noses, I would never stop casting it. You'd all be in trouble."

"Thanks for that image," Ginny said wryly.

"I wish I had a signature spell," said Peakes. He furrowed his brow. "Does anyone else in Gryffindor have one?"

"Harry," said Ginny. "_Expelliarmus_. He's actually quite brilliant with it." Dean and Seamus exchanged a knowing look, both barely stifling a laugh. "What?" demanded Ginny. "What's so funny?"

"It's just a disarming charm, Gin," said Dean, grinning. "Doesn't quite have the flare of the Bat-Bogey, does it?"

"Perhaps you'd like to duel Harry, see what he can do with _Expelliarmus_, then?" replied Ginny coolly.

"I'd like to take some odds on that match," offered Seamus. "You'd be a bit of a long shot, eh, Dean?"

"No, hey, look…" Dean backpedaled furiously. "Harry's brilliant, you know? We were all in the D.A. We saw it with our own eyes."

"What's the D.A.?" asked Demelza. The older students ignored her.

"I know what Harry can do," Dean continued. "I mean, Hermione's got it all over him in every other subject, but in Defense, he's tops."

"Actually, he's tops in Potions this year, too," Seamus said thoughtfully. "Don't know how he's pulling that one off. Reckon he hates Snape so much he's purposely botched the class for five years?" Ginny said nothing. Her own personal jury was still out on the Half-Blood Prince, and she certainly wasn't going to blow Harry's cover on it now.

"The point is," continued Dean, "for someone as good in Defense as Harry, why's he always going back to _Expelliarmus_? Just seems a bit on the simple side for a bloke who was casting a full-fledged Patronus by his fourth year."

"Third year," said Ginny tartly. "And maybe the brilliance is in the simplicity. No, think about," she pressed on, feeling a hot flush crawl up her back at the smirks of Dean and Seamus. "No use knowing all sorts of fancy and complicated spells if you haven't got your wand, is there?" The third-year beaters nodded earnestly, but Dean and Seamus looked less than convinced.

"Sure, I suppose," Dean admitted, in a tone that suggested he just wanted to drop the whole thing. There was a moment of silence. The misery that accompanied the loss of the match was threatening to envelop the team again, when Dean let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Still…" he began, softly, "_Expelliarmus_ didn't help him much out on the pitch, did it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny, glancing at Dean questioningly.

"I suppose if he had been quick enough, he could have used it to knock the bat out of McLaggen's hand, eh? Instead…" And Dean made a noise that sounded a bit like a hollow "BONK", slapping his hands to his head, and then falling off of the couch with a cartoonish scream. Seamus guffawed once, and the younger team members tittered nervously.

"What are you getting on about?" asked Ginny, fighting back the low growl that had suddenly threatened to appear in her voice.

"Well… it was a bit funny, y'know?" said Dean. "I mean, now that we know he's going to be all right." Dean chuckled. "He just got knocked back and fell like a rock." Shaking his head, he added. "Blimey. How many times can one bloke end up in the hospital wing?"

Seamus laughed. "You've got a point on that one. But you forgot to grab your forehead and yell, 'My scar! My scar!'" At this, Seamus and Dean both rolled back onto the couch laughing, each grabbing their foreheads and moaning in mock pain.

"That's not funny." Ginny wasn't sure when she had stood up. She wasn't sure when she had turned bright red, either; not that she could see herself, of course, but she could feel the blood pulsing along her cheeks and in her forehead. At the sight of her, Seamus sobered up immediately. Demelza, Peakes and Coote had long since stopped showing any signs of laughter.

"Hey, Ginny, we're only having a bit of fun," stammered Seamus. "He's our mate, too, y'know. Don't want to see him hurt, ourselves."

"He could have been killed," seethed Ginny, not allowing herself to calm down. "He could be dead right now, neck broken, or smashed on the ground, or…"

"But he's not!" Dean had sat up as well. Unlike the others, he looked slightly irritated at Ginny's temper. "Come off it, Gin, he's fine. No need to get your knickers in a twist."

At this, Demelza, Coote, and Peakes all suddenly seemed to remember they had a great deal of homework to do. They scampered off, the older students paying them no mind. If anything, Seamus looked as though he might like to join them.

Ginny's eyes had narrowed to slits. "Oh, no need, is there? No need? Thank goodness you're here to tell me these things, Dean." She crossed to him, and he drew himself up. "I think that's a right foul thing to make fun of somebody when they're lying in the hospital wing."

"Why? You did it," said Dean defensively.

"What do you mean?" Ginny demanded.

"You had a pretty good go at Umbridge last year when she was lying up there, didn't you?" Dean pointed this out with a note of triumph. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Are you honestly comparing Harry Potter to Dolores Umbridge?" she asked. "That toad of a woman? She was evil! Harry is your 'mate', remember?"

Seamus, eager to get back on Ginny's good side, chimed in with, "She's got a point." Dean shot him a nasty look, and Ginny rounded on him as well.

"And you! Making fun of his scar hurting. Some nerve you have!" Ginny was near shouting now, drawing looks from passing Gryffindors. _Maybe you shouldn't be talking about this so loudly, dear,_ the little voice in the back of her head was trying to tell her, but her anger had thrown common sense and any inclination she had to listen to that little voice hand in hand out the window.

"Some nerve we have," Dean said. "We're the ones who get woken up in the middle of the night scared half to death, Harry looking all sick and holding his head. Six years of that, it IS unnerving. If we don't laugh we'd cry."

Ginny looked at her boyfriend, shaking her head in disbelief. "The two of you. The absolute gall. I have half a mind," she said as she drew her wand, "to teach both of you a lesson myself."

Seamus shook his head wildly. "You're right, Ginny, we were out of line. Please don't make my bogeys attack me."

She closed in on Seamus, poking her wand at him for effect. "Do you know what it means when his scar hurts? If you knew you wouldn't make fun, I guarantee you that. Do you even know?"

"I'll bet you do." Dean had muttered this under his breath, seemingly half-hoping that Ginny wouldn't hear, half-hoping she would.

After a moment of silence, Ginny turned round slowly. Seamus took this as an excellent opportunity to scamper after the younger members of the Quidditch team, leaving Ginny and Dean alone in front of the fire. She leveled at Dean the frostiest stare she could muster, willed the redness out of her face and calmness into her voice, and quietly said, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well…" Dean hesitated. "You know…"

"No, I don't think I do, so spit it out, then!" hissed Ginny, barely reining in her temper.

Dean leaned in, whispering a bit, as if afraid to be heard. "You know what it means when his scar hurts, I'll bet. You know everything about him, don't you? You… you _fancy_ him, don't you?"

Her eyes went wide with anger and disbelief. Absurd. Just absurd! She did not "fancy" Harry, not anymore, of course! She had pushed that aside, it was just a schoolgirl's crush, and…

… _and that is a lie. It is a complete and utter lie. You do fancy Harry. You do. You like him, you care for him, however you want to say it... and you do so very, very much, and who he is to your family and who your family is to him won't change that or make it go away and I don't understand why you just won't admit that you have these feelings for him..._

"I do not!" she cried. It was a cry directed at the little voice in her head, making broader accusations about her feelings for Harry than it had ever dared before, as if detecting her weaknesses of late, her relapses, the slow breaking down that had been occurring of the well-built self-defenses she had constructed around her heart over the years... but they were not down yet, not entirely, and Ginny would not stand for that lovesick little girl to break free and take over her life again. She just would not stand for it.

Dean, understandably, had no idea this war was raging inside of Ginny, and believed her cry of angry protestation was directed squarely at him. To wit, he quickly began to backpedal. "I mean to say, Gin, you know… I know you don't anymore, of course, it's just… well… you did, and that's okay, it was no secret, but… a bit protective of him… naturally…" Dean seemed to run out of things to say, and settled on opening and closing his mouth silently and dumbly.

Ginny's mouth had gone dry. Her stomach was doing back-flips and she was having a hard time deciding if she was angry or mortified. Suddenly unable to trust herself to speak without squeaking or stammering, she said the only thing she could think of to say. "Right. I'm going to the hospital wing to visit Ron and..." But Harry's name didn't seem to want to come out of her mouth. "To visit Ron!" Dean nodded. Ginny stalked towards the portrait hole, wrenched it open, and turned on Dean. "Don't follow me!" With that, she slammed the portrait shut on Dean and the rest of the common room. She fell back against the closed entrance to Gryffindor Tower, trying desperately to collect and settle her racing thoughts.

"Do you quite mind?" squawked a muffled voice from behind her. Ginny quickly stood up, offered a mumbled, "Sorry," to the portrait of the Fat Lady upon which she had been leaning and quickly strode off towards the hospital wing.

She walked the halls numbly, unsure of what had just happened to her and wondering what she could possibly say to Dean later on, or even if there would be a Dean to say something to later on. Surely he would leave her over this. Surely he had to be able to see the turmoil going on inside of her. Surely he could tell that she was the 100% certified "World's Worst Girlfriend"... but he hadn't seen it, seemingly, all year. How could she trust him to see it now?

"What's the matter with you?"

Ginny looked up in surprise. She hadn't realized anyone else was around. She was even more surprised to discover that in her daze she had managed to wander into the middle of the hospital wing without consciously realizing it. Ron was looking at her curiously from his bed. "You take a Bludger to the head too?" he asked. "I thought it was just this one next to me."

Ginny looked at the bed next to Ron and saw Harry lying there, still unconscious or sleeping or whatever, his glasses resting on the table beside to him and his head wrapped up in a thick turban of bandages. She walked over to him. "How is he?" she asked Ron.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"I know you're fine," she said, shooting her brother a nasty look. "I've been in to see you every day, and I can tell you're fine by the amount you've been complaining about being stuck here. So I thought I'd ask how Harry is first, as I don't know he's fine."

"A simple, 'Bugger off, Ron,' would have covered it, you know."

"I'm in a thorough kind of mood."

"Apparently." Ron stopped to yawn, rubbing his eyes as he did so. "He'll be all right," he said when he finished. "Just resting now. Madame Pomfrey really dopes you up with sleeping potions. I don't think she likes children, honestly."

"I just think she doesn't like you."

"Then why's she keeping me here so bloody long?" Ron said with a scowl. "I've been in here ages."

"Please," chided Ginny. "A week is not 'ages'. You were poisoned, for goodness sake!"

"Feels like longer," Ron said. "Loads longer. But we'll both be out of here on Monday, she says, in time for classes. Hooray for us."

"I thought you said you wanted to be out?"

"I do!" Ron protested. "But I don't want to go to classes!"

Ginny shook her head. "You are just unbelievable, do you know that?"

Ron smiled. "Thank you, dear sister. So," he said while stifling another yawn, "how was the match?"

Ginny grimaced. "You really, really don't want to know."

"No, I don't," he said with a shrug. "Hermione was here earlier and she already told me what a disaster it was. Besides," he added with a grin, "I could hear Luna's commentary all the way from in here. Bloody brilliant. She should do it all the time. You couldn't catch the Snitch, huh?"

"Not while playing Chaser at the same time, I couldn't," Ginny grumbled. "Two-A-Side Quidditch is a load of hippogriff dung."

"Just because you're not good at it…"

"If you knew how the match ended," Ginny snapped, "then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted you to get to the parts where McLaggen blew the whole game," Ron said with a grin.

"He's useless," Ginny seethed. "Completely stuffing useless."

"Language, young lady."

"Oh, bugger off." Ron howled with laughter, taking complete and total delight in Ginny's frustration. "You know, Ronald," she said, "the way you're acting one might think that you're glad McLaggen cost us the game and hit your best friend in the head with a Bludger."

"Not at all," Ron said with a smile, wiping a tear away from his eye as he did. "But if somebody had to lose, I can't say I'm all that upset that it was McLaggen."

"I suppose," Ginny said begrudgingly. "Still…"

"You hate to lose," Ron said, finishing the thought.

"I hate to lose," Ginny echoed.

"So I assume McLaggen won't get off scot free?"

"Oh, no," Ginny said, her mind going back to the earlier conversation in the common room. "There are a few choice things the team has planned for him."

Ron sighed with contentment, and tucked his arms behind his head. "You know, this day keeps getting better and better."

A silence settled over them for a moment, Ron seemingly lost in the glory of all the imagined sufferings of Cormac McLaggen, and Ginny… she turned her attention back to Harry.

He lay still and peaceful, his eyes closed and, if she looked closely and wanted to believe it, a small smile across his lips, as if he, too, were enjoying the thought of what might befall McLaggen in the days to come.

The sudden urge to bend over and touch her lips to his came out of nowhere; she had already made the most infinitesimal move towards him when common sense regained control of her faculties and she froze in an awkward stance, halfway between starting to bend and standing still, her mind filled with all the wonderful possibilities of what her life could be.

"If you have a question to ask him you might be waiting awhile."

Ginny spun to face her brother's quizzical look. Just how long HAD she been standing there staring at Harry? For a brief instant she wanted to tell her brother, confess everything, unburden herself… the words were already pouring from her brain and making a beeline towards her lips when she lost her nerve, and instead she sputtered out, "Harry was really late for the match!"

Ron stared at her, clearly waiting for more information. "And I was just… I was just trying to figure out why. It's not like him, you know. To be late for Quidditch, that is."

"All right," Ron said slowly. "Did he happen to mention why?"

"Yeah," Ginny said. "He said something about Draco Malfoy wandering around up in the castle. With a girl."

Ron pulled a face. "Reckon I know what Malfoy was doing, then. Yech. Harry's getting carried away here."

"Carried away with what?" Ginny said quickly.

"Never mind," Ron said. "It doesn't matter."

"Harry thinks Malfoy's behind what happened to you and Katie, doesn't he?"

Ron sighed. "I can't say, but… look, it's not like I think Malfoy's some upstanding citizen or something. But You-Know-Who wouldn't go making him a Death Eater. He's too young."

"How do you know?" Ginny shot back. "I don't think Tom's very particular about who he has do his dirty work?"

"Who's Tom?" Ron asked. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Tom Riddle," she said with exasperation. "Voldemort! Oh, grow up, Ronald," Ginny scolded him as he winced. "I don't think Malfoy's age would keep Tom from recruiting him if he thinks Malfoy can get to someone at Hogwarts."

"Well, that's just it, really," Ron said. "I mean, Malfoy's a slug, but he's not a killer."

Ginny stopped. Ron was right, of course. Besides, they both knew that it was impossible for Malfoy to be in the bathroom at The Three Broomsticks to give Katie Bell that necklace, so they were arguing a moot point, really.

"Harry gets a little obsessed with things sometimes," Ron said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.

"Given what he's been through," Ginny replied, "you can hardly blame him."

"No," said Ron. "S'pose not."

They again sat in silence, studying Harry's resting features, Ginny wondering if he could hear them speak of him. "Gawd," yawned Ron, suddenly stretching. "Can't believe I'm going to be stuck in here until Monday. You'd think there'd be a faster way to heal a bloke by now, wouldn't you?"

Ginny grinned. "You could try stitches," she teased. "Worked so well for dad last year, didn't they?"

Ron grinned back. "Gin, the day I let them poke me with Muggle medicine is the day you can lock me up in the nuthouse," he joked. "I'd like to see them try. Still, can't we come up with a faster way to get better? I mean, we are wizards, aren't we?"

Ginny opened her mouth to give a reply, but suddenly stopped. Something about what Ron had just said… something was there, pecking at the back of her mind. What was it?

_Oh, wouldn't you like to know?_

"Gin?" Ron was staring at his sister quizzically, and for not the first time for this visit. "You all right?"

"I am," she nodded. "It's just… well. I don't know what, actually."

"Oh." Ron shrugged. "All right." He yawned again.

"Get some sleep, Ronald," Ginny playfully admonished him. "I'll be back to see you later. I may even," she added in a whisper, "bring Hermione."

Ron smiled, his eyes closing. Madame Pomfrey's vast array of potions, it seemed, were having their effect on him. "Good," he mumbled sleepily. "Just don't tell… whatshername…" and then he began to snore.

Ginny watched her brother sleep peacefully for a moment, a smile on her face. She would never admit it, but she did love the big goofy prat. There was nobody else in her life with whom it was quite so satisfying to fight with as Ron. As she turned to leave the hospital wing, she threw a final glance at Harry… and three whole minutes later, she tore herself away and left the wing.

Once away from the reassuring comfort of Ron's brotherly sparring, her mind began to go back, both to her earlier row with Dean, and to the whatever-it-was that began chirping away in the back of her brain during her talk with Ron. Try though she might, she couldn't quite place what it was that was nagging her. "A faster way to get better," Ron had said. Why did Ginny feel like she knew "a faster way to get better," and why did she have the sudden hunch that such knowledge was the key to a puzzle that had been vexing her the entire school year?

And she stopped in her tracks.

Of course she knew a faster way to get better. Particularly from poisons.

Her legs were carrying her as fast as she could run, tearing through the mostly empty halls of Hogwarts. How stupid was she? Just how bloody stupid WAS she? _A faster way to get better. _She had seen it herself… well, not seen it, so much as felt it, but still…

She pulled to a stumbling halt, breathless. She stood where she was for several minutes in the deserted corridor, staring up at the eternally intimidating door to the second floor girl's bathroom.

It was this door. There was so much hidden behind this door. The door she had been forced to enter far more than she would have liked in her first year, a door she was terrified to walk past in her second and third years, and a door she had since forced herself to confront almost daily in her fourth year, and had attempted on numerous occasions to walk through now, in her fifth year.

She had not yet managed to accomplish that task.

She stood now, at the threshold of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She stood there as time ticked past. Something was in there, something aside from her fears. It was all starting to come together. The answer to… something… was beyond that door.

In the most primal corners of her innermost mind, some long-suffered fear screamed for her to turn and run. She almost did. She almost did. But…

"Not. Bloody. Likely," she growled to herself.

Forcing her legs to lift, forcing her feet to move one in front of the other, she walked up to the bathroom door, pushed it open, and marched right in.

It was almost anti-climactic. There she stood, inside of a bathroom, just an ordinary bathroom. Stalls, sinks, towels. Except it wasn't an ordinary bathroom, of course. She felt the warmth begin to drain from her face as memories welled up inside her… chicken blood and diaries, secret tunnels and a Basilisk, being forced to speak in strange tongues that were not her own… the experiences began to flood through her, threatening to overwhelm her…

But it was years ago. It had been years ago. She got to her feet. She didn't even remember going down to her knees, but she wanted to always remember that she was able to lift herself up from them.

It was just a bathroom.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She opened her eyes, and the room was still just a bathroom.

Her gaze turned to the sink. THE sink. There it was. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets stood behind there, she knew. She could remember, vaguely while awake and explicitly in her nightmares, the spirit of Tom Riddle forcing her to open that passageway and unleash the monster. How many times had she slid down to the Chamber itself? Just the one? More times than she could remember? It was all a blur.

Ginny stared at the sink, remained frozen where she stood. She knew, of course, without Riddle's icy grip in her head, she could no longer speak Parseltongue, and knew that she likely wouldn't be able to open the chamber if she tried. Not that she had any intention of trying…

Suddenly, an explosion went off in one of the stalls down the row, and the transparent form of a girl floated up in the air, passing directly through the geyser of water shooting up from the pipes below without getting a drop on her.

"Oh, hello!" said Moaning Myrtle. "Look who it is! It's been so long since you visited… I expect you forgot all about me. Everyone does, so it IS to be expected, isn't it? Why, if I didn't know better…"

"_Silencio!"_ Ginny had drawn her wand and cast the Silencing Charm on Myrtle with barely a thought. To her surprise and delight it worked. Myrtle's mouth worked up and down for a few moments, but not a word came out. With a silent scream of rage and despair, she turned and flew back down the pipe from whence she came, the geyser of water disappearing with her.

That distraction taken care of, Ginny stepped closer to the sink. Peering closely, she located the one tap upon which was etched a tiny snake. That was it. The key. The marking on the front door, as it were. The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Truthfully, it just looked like a little scratched out drawing of a snake. In her memory, it had been much bigger. And scarier. And it seemed to writhe with inexplicable power. Now… well, now it looked just like so much graffiti.

Why had she been so scared to lay her eyes on it again?

For a few moments her brain tried to catch up to these realizations. This was just a bathroom. A bathroom with a stupid little picture of a snake scraped out on a sink and a secret passage that only one person in the school could open, and in very fact the one person in the school who could open it was the same person who had been able to conquer what lay below through that passage. She couldn't get into the Chamber if she tried, not even if she wanted to… and nothing that was in the Chamber could get out without Harry's permission, and Harry would never give that permission… in fact, now that she REALLY thought of it, there wasn't anything down there that even COULD come out, unless you thought the rotting skeleton of a long-dead Basilisk and a couple of statues were some kind of a threat.

She began to laugh. Slowly at first, quietly, but then a little harder, and a little louder, until she was outright hysterical. She did not know what she was laughing more about: was she laughing at the ineffective terrors that the Chamber held, locked away forever, victim to the prejudices and pride of its creator? Or was she laughing at her own stupidity for allowing those defanged horrors to hold her in such anxiety for all of these years? Either way, it felt good to laugh. It felt cathartic. It felt… liberating! All of these years, all of that silly fear… for what? For nothing! Absolutely nothing!

"There's nothing down there, is there?" Ginny said to herself with glee in her voice. "Am I the biggest idiot the world has ever known? I might be!" And she laughed even harder.

Suddenly, words spoken to her months earlier came flooding back to her: "_If I may say, Miss Weasley_," Professor Dumbledore had said to her on the morning of the year's first Hogsmeade visit, "_your plight is not so uncommon, nor should you be so hard on yourself for it. After all, your own worst memories are the one enemy that you can never outrun._"

He had been right, and she had not appreciated it until right then just HOW right. She had not been scared of anything that was actually left in the Chamber of Secrets. She had been scared of her own memories of the place, of what had happened to her. And those memories, traumatic though they may be… she had coped with them. Why allow them to rule her life? Why give them free reign over her emotions? It was done, it was all done. Her memories would not be able to hurt her unless she let them. Well, she was through letting them.

The Chamber of Secrets was empty, and so was its hold on her.

She stopped. She thought. If the Chamber was empty… then what was it, exactly, that she thought just minutes ago in the hallway was to be found there? Why had she run to the second floor bathroom again?

… _a faster way to get better…_

"_Perhaps the answers you seek," _Dumbledore had said,_ "were once in the Chamber, but have since moved on."_

And she was out the door again, running full tilt down the hallway, quite certain that the only time she'd ever find herself in the presence of Moaning Myrtle again was if she was on the second floor and desperate for a bathroom.

By the time she reached the seventh floor, she was completely out of breath. She hadn't given much logical thought how she was going to get into where she was going, and now that question seemed even more important as she stared down the gargoyle.

There was always the direct approach. "I'd like to enter, please," she said.

Nothing. The thing didn't even have the decency to laugh at her. "Please," she said sweetly, turning on her puppy-dog eyes as powerfully as she could, "I just need to pass for a few moments. Could you…?"

Again, nothing. She tried for several more minutes, alternating between sweet-talking, demanding, and pleading, but to no avail. The gargoyle simply would not budge for her. Her frustration mounted. She knew she had to get in there, she simply knew it, but clearly without the password… and it wasn't as if she could go up to Dumbledore and ASK him for the password, as if he'd simply HAND her the password…

… simply hand it to her…

"_It is a private message,"_ Dumbledore had told her as he had handed her the parchment for Harry. "_But not so private the world would end should someone else's eyes fall upon it. I trust you will respect that privacy as I would expect any of your more industrious siblings to do."_

He HAD simply handed it to her, hadn't he? He had practically invited her to read it, to boot. And at the end of that note to Harry…

"… _P.S. – In the case that your memory is as poor as mine… "_

"Acid Pops," Ginny said aloud, finishing the postscript.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" grumbled the gargoyle. It lurched out of the way and the wall behind it split in two, revealing the slowly rising spiral stone staircase that led up to Dumbledore's office. Without hesitation Ginny hopped onto the staircase, and it carried her up until she was standing facing the polished oak doors with the griffin- shaped brass knocker. She knocked once, twice… but there was no answer. The Headmaster must have been off-premises again.

Ginny listened sharply. She could hear nobody inside, and nobody below at the gargoyle. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the office just widely enough to slip through.

The Headmaster's office was still; or at least, nobody was there. Around the walls, the portraits of all the various other Hogwarts Headmasters throughout history slept soundly, a few emitting pleasant snores. On several spindly-legged tables sat little silver devices, all delicate looking, all spinning or whizzing feverishly and emitting plumes of smoke. They were either working or breaking, by Ginny's best guess. Dumbledore's desk stood as stately as ever, adorned with scattered papers, a silver inkpot, and a scarlet quill. Behind the desk on a shelf sat the Sorting Hat, and in a glass case next to it was a silver sword adorned with rubies. A fireplace, a black cabinet…

And there, on a golden perch, sat Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, brilliant in his red and gold plumage, looking at her, curious but undisturbed by her presence.

Fawkes, who had been showing up in Ginny's dreams, crying a single tear and enveloping the Chamber of Secrets in flames… She realized she had only ever seen Fawkes fly outside of Dumbledore's office on that fateful day in her first year when he and Harry had defeated the Basilisk…

… had only ever heard his song that once…

… had only that once known the power of his tears…

_A faster way to get better._

She approached the phoenix with something like reverence. She was close, so close… She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. That wasn't how she was going to get the answers she needed.

She looked around the office again, her gaze settling on the brilliant sword resting in the glass case. With a glance at the office doors, she quickly stepped to the case and peered inside. She noticed writing on the hilt just below the rubied handle: "Godric Gryffindor". All at once she recognized the weapon. It was the sword Harry had carried out of the Chamber of Secrets, the one with which he had slain Riddle's Basilisk.

It was perfect.

She carefully opened the case and carefully lifted the sword out. She took a few steps back, admiring its brilliance… and then, even more careful still, she held it away from her in her right hand, her arm outstretched, and turned the point of the sword back towards her left hand, lifting her left index finger and gently pricking it against the sword's tips. Almost instantly, a single drop of blood blossomed from her finger. Still carrying the sword, she walked back around Dumbledore's desk to stand before Fawkes. Taking a deep breath, she held up her bleeding finger to the phoenix.

The bird looked at her quizzically and ruffled his own feathers, but no tears fell from his eyes. The drop of blood on Ginny's finger grew a little larger. What if Fawkes wouldn't cry for a wound that was self-inflicted? She held her finger up closer to him, now feeling some urgency. "Fawkes", she pleaded, "I have to know."

Fawkes looked at her, and for a moment she felt his eyes lock with hers, and she knew he understood. Lowering his head close to the tip of Ginny's left index finger, the phoenix squeezed his eye shut, and then one, two, three large, clear teardrops fell onto her hand.

Almost instantaneously, the phoenix tears began to work their magic. With a hissing sound, Ginny could see the wound on her hand begin to close up. Drawing her finger up close to her face, she closed her eyes and smelled deeply, once, twice, three times to be sure.

Phoenix tears. There it was. That was it… that was ALMOST it… something wasn't quite right… something was missing…

And then Fawkes began to sing.

Suddenly, almost violently, she was thrust back in time. For the second time in a day memories flooded over her, out of sequence and trapped somewhere between reality and a dream, but memories nevertheless. Harry helping her up from where she lay on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, bringing with him the power of the phoenix's song, filling her with warmth and courage even at a time when she had felt more cold and desperation than she had ever known in her young life. She felt his arms, however awkwardly, guiding her out of the Chamber, her own tears of shame and fear mingling with the dirt and blood and poison his robes were stained with… but even then, her face buried in his arm as they walked, she could feel, she could smell, she could sense over all else the healing magic of Fawkes' tears sanctifying his arm.

And Ginny Weasley, all 15 years of her, standing in Dumbledore's office, staring at her newly healed left finger, the Sword of Gryffindor hanging limply in her right hand, cried again. Because she knew now as she knew then that Harry Potter had not come down into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue her because of who she was, in any way. She realized that she was not any damsel in distress to his chivalrous knight. She knew that Harry would have made that trip and fought that fight to save anyone: she, Ron, Hermione, even Draco Malfoy. His bravery, his loyalty, his strength, his determination… that's what had led Fawkes to help him in the Chamber of Secrets. That's what she had known instinctively as an eleven year old, and which she now consciously knew as a fifteen year old.

It was all of that, combined, somehow, that she had smelled, sensed, felt, however you wanted to say it, in the fumes of Amortentia.

And it was for all of that, that she knew that she loved him.

"Oh, Fawkes," she whispered, tears rolling down her face freely now, right onto her smile, "why didn't you tell me?"

"Perhaps because you never asked."

Ginny spun around with a gasp, quickly reaching up to wipe her tears away. Professor Dumbledore stood at the entrance to his office, smiling at her as one might expect a grandfather to. And, to top it off, all of the Headmaster portraits were now awake, watching with interest the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Professor..." Ginny stammered, "I didn't hear you come in… I…" Dumbly, it began to dawn on her that she had broken into the Headmaster's office. "I'm sorry," she began, "I thought that… I had to…" But no excuse was forthcoming.

As it turned out, she didn't really need one.

"You know, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, walking gently to her, "when I suggested I could arrange an audience between you and Fawkes, I never imagined it would take so long for you to take advantage of it."

"Right," Ginny said, smiling. "Turns out I can be a bit thick at times. Must run in the family."

"Oh, I don't think so," Dumbledore said, still smiling, that twinkle in his eye as bright as Ginny had ever seen it. "We often miss what is right in front of us, don't we? Still, I wonder… did you find the answers you were looking for?"

Ginny nodded, looking back at Fawkes. "I did, sir."

"And were the answers what you expected?"

Ginny was about to say no… but who was she kidding, really? She knew. She had always known. "Precisely, sir," she said. She then turned to look at the Headmaster again, who was smiling even more broadly than he had been when she looked away, if possible. "But I don't understand," she said a little bit breathlessly. Clearly Dumbledore knew exactly what was going on here, so there was little for her to hide. "I thought, with Amortentia, you only smelled… things. That was… that was…" Words could not describe what the potion had captured for her in its mysterious third scent. "That was so much more," she finally settled for.

"Ah, yes," the Headmaster said with a knowing nod. "It will sometimes, on rare occasions, surprise one like that. Recreating sensations, feelings, a place and time. It is almost," he added with a wink, "like magic."

He then turned serious. "Miss Weasley," he said, "I feel it is my duty to make sure you understand something, something very important: things from here on out are going to be very, very difficult for him. Do you understand that?"

"I do, Professor," Ginny replied.

"It is something you should be aware of, before you go and make any hasty or rash -"

"I understand," she said firmly. "I'm not so weak anymore, you know."

Dumbledore smiled. "No. No, I don't suppose that you are. But then again, I never supposed that you were. Can I assume, then, that your nightmares… ?"

"I think it's safe to say they're done, Professor," Ginny assured him. Dumbledore nodded, still smiling.

"Then off to bed with you," he said. "I would imagine you have had an exhausting day, and I would expect you don't quite realize just how late it is."

Ginny glanced out the window. The sky was dark and the moon was up. For how long had she been running around the school, anyway? When was it she had left the hospital wing? It seemed like ages ago. She yawned. "I don't think I do, Professor," she agreed. "I should go." She looked up at him. "Thank you," she said. "Sincerely." He smiled, but spoke not a word in reply.

She opened the oak doors to leave. "Miss Weasley," Dumbledore called after her. She turned to him. "I am a very old man and perhaps neither as perceptive as I once was, nor as clever as I think I am. And I am not without my errors in judgment. But if I am not mistaken, and I think very much that I am not, and if future events indeed unfold as I believe they must... then I think, Miss Weasley, that you will play an insurmountably important role in that which is yet to come."

Ginny swallowed hard. "And what role is that, Professor?" she asked quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Professor Dumbledore smiled gently. "Motivation, Miss Weasley," was his softly spoken answer. "Motivation."

She did not entirely understand, but then again, it HAD been an overwhelming day. She simply nodded her head and turned to leave. She reached for the oak door, as heavy as her heart was light, and as she began to pull it shut behind her she heard one of the portraits say:

"Now that's over with, don't you think it's about time you changed the password, Albus? It's been five months, for heaven's sake!"

"I think you're right, Phineas," Dumbledore agreed. "What do you think of toffee éclairs?'

"Hate them," sneered the portrait.

"Oh, Phineas!" Dumbledore said with delight as Ginny finally managed to tug the door shut. "Of course you do!"


	19. Chapter 18: A New Day

"Interesting conversation I had with Harry today," Hermione said as she idly thumbed through some of Ginny's notes.

"Really?" asked Ginny. "What about?"

"He and Ron got out of the hospital wing this morning," Hermione explained, keeping her voice low so as not to draw the ire of Madam Pince. "And I was explaining to him about the row you and Dean had in the common room." Ginny grimaced but didn't look up. It was amazing how quickly word got around. "Anyway, he did seem awfully interested to hear about it."

"If you've not yet learned, Hermione," Ginny mock-chided, "teenagers occasionally enjoy gossip."

Hermione laughed sharply, loudly enough to draw an angry shush from Madam Pince. "Not Harry," Hermione muttered to Ginny. "He's the most oblivious person I've ever met about such things."

"Clearly, he has other things on his mind."

"Yes," Hermione agreed pointedly. "It might seem that he does."

It took Ginny a few moments to realize what Hermione was implying. She looked up from her book to find her friend's gaze fixed upon her. "You do realized that Dean and I did not split up last night, don't you?" she hissed.

"Harry asked about that, too," Hermione said.

The two girls held each other's gaze for another moment, until Ginny broke it, looking back to her studies. "I don't know what possible interest you think I'd have in any of this," Ginny said in an off-handed sort of way.

"Oh, I couldn't imagine," Hermione said dryly as she stood up. "I suppose I'd best leave you to your 'studies'." Hermione smiled sweetly down at her. "Do try to avoid another 'relapse' after I leave, won't you?"

Ginny watched the elder girl walk away, and as soon as Hermione had passed through the doors out of the library she exhaled a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. It was funny, Ginny mused as she returned to studying. Those tidbits of conversation Hermione had shared with her, news of Harry bringing her name up, particularly to inquire about her relationship status… it wasn't long ago that news would have hit her like a hurricane, left her weak in the knees and her head spinning. (As it was, her heart WAS still beating rather quickly.) She would have thought, given the revelations of the night before in Dumbledore's office, given her complete and utter realization of the depth of her own feelings for Harry, that such news as Hermione brought would have triggered the effects of her years-long crush in all-new hyperventilating heights.

Of course, she wasn't exactly dealing with a mere crush anymore, was she?

There was a certain inevitability coloring her feelings towards Harry, she ruminated to herself for the umpteenth time later that week as she surreptitiously watched him thumbing through his copy of _Advance Potion Making _from across the common room. She felt oddly confident that whatever her current situation, her path would eventually lead to Harry, and his path lead to her. She had no logical reason to think this way, of course, but logic, she felt, had flown out the window back in Dumbledore's Office when she was begging a bird to reveal to her what a potion smelled of. No, she no longer found herself fretting so much over her feelings towards Harry, as she now knew exactly what those feelings were and found herself surprisingly positive that, when the time was right, they would be returned.

This was her being rational. Irrationally, her old fear of speaking to him or blushing around him had been replaced with a vengeance by the overwhelming desire to hold him, kiss him, stroke his hair…

She shook her head. Well. THAT wouldn't do. Not just yet, anyway.

"Guess I'm turning in," Dean muttered from the seat next to her.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes, of course," she said, turning a million miles away from Harry and back to Dan.

Dean. She meant Dean. Her boyfriend. Still.

Dean leaned in to kiss her goodnight, and Ginny turned her face ever-so-slightly (in an instinctive maneuver mastered by womankind thousands of years earlier, she was certain) so Dean's lips only brushed against her cheek.

As the days went by this quickly became their signature show of affection.

Everything had changed for her. She felt as if she had awoken from a long nap to find a new world around her, or at least to find she was seeing the same world from a completely new perspective. Realizing that she had let her studies lapse, she redoubled her efforts on them much to the effusive praise of her teachers (all but Snape, who paid her less attention the harder she worked.) She no longer stared longingly at Harry, but watched him, studied him, noticed things about him she hadn't before: the constant worry line that ran across his brow, right over his scar, the intensity with which he held a quill and listened to his friends and, well, did just about everything, the quiet observations he made of his classmates, as though he were studying all of them, trusting none but Ron and Hermione, with whom he spent an inordinate amount of time muttering mysteriously. The three of them were again acting obsessed over something, and Ginny continued to catch the names "Slughorn", "Malfoy", and "Dumbledore" in snatches of conversation. Whenever she heard the headmaster's name now, though, it sent her into a spin puzzling over the meaning of that word he had given her to chew on, "motivation", but it wasn't something she was particularly worried about. She hadn't been sure what Dumbledore had meant when he said it, but she felt somehow certain that it was, or would prove to be, wildly appropriate. She felt taller (though she wasn't), wiser, older… she felt as if the world had begun to slow down around her, and the frenetic pace of childhood suddenly seemed left far behind.

And Dean had been left behind with it. He was on the periphery of her thoughts, and she often forgot that she had a boyfriend at all. The frustration that overwhelmed her whenever she remembered that her future could not start until she settled things with Dean served as an equally irritating reminder that she was not out of the woods of childhood completely, not yet. She was often cross with Dean for no reason, and then would feel immediately guilty about it. She alternated almost daily between an oddly detached sensation, as if she were watching the end days of their relationship from some distant vantage point, and being so upset at how poorly she was treating the boy that she felt sick to her stomach. She knew in her heart of hearts that they were done, but Dean had been infuriatingly perfect since their fight in the common room and was not leaving her with any opening to begin their ending. She couldn't very well break-up with Dean with the only reason being "Harry Potter", now could she? Ron had been mumbling under his breath since his return from the hospital wing about how it was "bloody near impossible to ditch someone" and Ginny was silently starting to agree with him.

"Want to talk a walk in the grounds?" Dean asked her one Saturday two weeks after everything had changed.

"No, thanks," Ginny said sweetly, gritting her teeth as she did so. "Have to go to the library and study. You know. O.W.L.s." She was doing so much studying these days her O.W.L. totals were going to leave Percy in the dust.

"Right," said Dean with a smile. "See you later then." He leaned in for a kiss, Ginny presented her cheek, and he gave her a peck and a smile and went off with Seamus, who had taken to shaking his head at Ginny and Dean's interactions. Between Seamus' constant bewilderment and Parvati's evil eye at Ginny's behavior, Ginny was amazed that Dean didn't seem to think anything was amiss.

As she dragged herself to the library yet again, she returned to a suspicion she had weeks earlier dismissed but which was now looking more and more possible: Dean knew exactly what she was thinking and was daring her, absolutely daring her, to make the first move down the road to their break-up. They had begun playing a game of relationship chicken, and Ginny was determined not to lose. She hated to lose. She was going to wait him out and force him to make the first misstep, logic and reason be damned.

"We need to talk."

Ginny spun her head around and groaned a little bit. Hermione. Again. This time grabbing her arm, dragging her from outside the library and pulling her into an empty classroom, closing the door behind them.

"Now," Hermione said as Ginny seated herself on one of the desks with an expectant frown. She hoped Hermione would be quick about this. "I've been giving this a good deal of thought," Hermione continued. "There's been a distinct change in you. I was thinking about the day Ron was poisoned, and though I admit to being a tad emotional…"

"Congratulations on the understatement of the year."

"… I wasn't catatonic," Hermione continued, ignoring Ginny's dig. "And I took note of the casual back and forth you and Harry shared even while discussing what happened to your brother."

"Hermione," Ginny said, "I've been able to talk to Harry for over two years. How does that particular conversation prove… ?"

"You were so casual," Hermione went on, "that one might even call it flirtatious."

Ginny crinkled up her nose at this. "Flirtatious?" she said. "I don't remember anything flirtatious. Unless, of course, you're thinking of all the different theories we came up with as to who might have been trying to murder Ron. I could see that being flirtatious. If you're a couple of psychotics locked away in Azkaban."

"Flirtatious," Hermione repeated firmly. "Definitely flirtatious."

"And also," she said the next week when she had scurried Ginny away to the kitchens, "you spend almost no time with Dean anymore. You're always running off to the library and sitting with other friends at dinner, or if you sit with him you never speak with him."

"Just how closely have you been watching me?" Ginny asked as she watched a particularly nervous looking elf with big bug eyes scamper past. "And why is that house-elf wearing so many hats?"

"What? Oh, that's Dobby."

"Who's Dobby?"

"You've met him!"

"I have?"

"Yes! But of course you don't remember. This is why S.P.E.W. is so important. House-elves are people, too!"

"No, they're not. They're elves, aren't they?"

"It's not important right now!" Hermione insisted, stamping her foot. Ginny snorted back a laugh. "Oh, it's funny, is it?" said Hermione, folding her arms and leveling a cold gaze at Ginny, who immediately felt her smile slip away. "It's not quite as funny, I think, as watching Dean kiss you good-night these days." Ginny could feel herself blushing as easily as she could see the grin spread across Hermione's face. "If you gave him any more of your cheek instead of your lips he'd swallow your earlobe."

"Maybe," Ginny said hotly, stomping her own foot now as she turned to leave, "that's where he's aiming for!"

"But let me tell you what the most compelling piece of evidence is," Hermione said the next week as they stood atop the Astronomy Tower, holding their jackets tightly to them for warmth.

"Before you do, let me ask you something," Ginny said while taking in their surroundings. "Just who do you think is trying to overhear us that you keep dragging me to these out-of-the-way places?"

"You never know."

"We could have these conversations in the common room, that's all I'm saying."

"Don't change the subject!"

"Where are you going to drag me next week, the bottom of the lake?"

"Are you through?"

"I could get some Gillyweed…"

"Are you THROUGH?"

"No. Perhaps we could learn to speak mermish." Ginny chuckled. Hermione scowled. "Okay," said Ginny. "Now I'm through."

"The most compelling thing," Hemione said, "was remembering how you reacted on the Quidditch pitch when Harry was injured."

Ginny flashed back to that momentary horror, when she had feared the worst for Harry and had reacted… fairly strongly. "What about it?" she asked, keeping her voice measured.

"Think of what you displayed. Panic, irrational thought, a desperate attempt to help where you wouldn't be any help…"

"What about it?" Ginny repeated, through tight lips.

"It's just that I recognized it," Hermione said quietly. "I mean, it took me awhile to make the connection, but I recognized it." She took a deep breath. "It was… exactly the same way I reacted. When Ron was poisoned." They stared at each other for several seconds. Hermione turned, and walked to the railing at the edge of the tower.

Ginny nodded slowly to herself. The implication of Hermione's words did not form immediately for her but they were rolling gently into shape. "And you're saying," said Ginny, walking to the railing to join her friend, "that my reaction on the pitch is some sort of proof that I… 'like'… Harry."

"If 'like' is the word you're comfortable with, then yes," Hermione replied, still looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts, not making eye contact with Ginny.

"So," Ginny said, licking her lips, "if that's proof that I… 'have feelings"… for Harry, and you by your own admission reacted the exact same way when Ron was poisoned..." Ginny trailed off, but Hermione did not reply, did not look at her, seemed to be waiting to have it said for her. "If that's the case," Ginny finally concluded, "what does that say about your 'feelings' for my brother?"

Silence. Ginny waited.

After several long moments…

"You tell me," came Hermione's hushed reply.

They stayed up there together for some time longer. They did not say another word. There was no need. It was an unspoken understanding they shared.

Luna handled things differently; of course, the way Luna's brain worked and the way Hermione's worked were on polar opposite ends of the conceptual spectrum. Rather than subject Ginny to a game of twenty (hundred) questions, one day when they were walking between classes discussing nothing in particular, Luna asked her:

"So are you going to tell him?"

"Tell who, what?" Ginny asked.

"Are you going to tell Harry?" Luna said, while examining a large purple feather she had seemingly pulled out of thin air.

"I have nothing to tell Harry," Ginny said defiantly, although the sudden heat in her face warned her that her blush might betray her.

"And I'm not holding a purple feather," Luna said reasonably. "You'd best stop seeing Dean, I suppose." She sighed. "That really is a shame. Dean's a very whimsical-looking boy."

"Whimsical-looking? What does that even mea-?"

"Perhaps," Luna continued, "you could find a way to split yourself into more than one person, and you could see them both at the same time!" With that, she flicked her wrist and the large purple feather exploded with a POP! into dozens of tiny yellow ones.

"A person can't just tear themselves into several different pieces, Luna," Ginny said with a grin. "And," she added, indicating the feathers all over the floor, "I have no desire to be tiny and yellow. Practicing for O.W.L.s, I see?"

"What are O.W.L.s?" Luna asked, earnestly turning her big eyes to Ginny. How Luna could be so perceptive and so oblivious at the same time was a constant source of amazement.

But the perceptive side of Luna had made a good point. Here was Ginny, silently convinced that she and Harry were… she couldn't even fathom what she thought they were in spite of the swarming intensity of her newly unlocked feelings towards him… but here she was, convinced that this next, great journey was standing on the other side of a crystal-clear bubble, just waiting for her to burst through and grab it… and she was stuck in a relationship she simply did not know how to shake. Everywhere she turned, Dean was there, holding out chairs, getting her Butterbeers, carrying her books, looking over her essays… he had been next to flawless, returning to form as the overbearingly perfect boyfriend from early in their relationship, not even protesting Ginny's sudden aversion to more physical displays of affection. He had even returned to his most cloying habit: that of helping her through doors. She had hated it when they first started dating, and liked it even less now.

But through all of Dean's gentlemanly behavior (which had the majority of her female classmates "Oooh"ing and "Aaah"ing at Dean's every move, much to her chagrin) Ginny was certain she detected an edge, a purpose to his cloying attentions, as though he knew, just knew, that this was the sort of thing that drove her mental, and he was passive-aggressively pressing her buttons, seeing how far he could push her. Perhaps she was overthinking it. She didn't think she was. And she was quickly reaching her limits.

And then one evening, after a late afternoon of "studying" in the library, Ginny was dragging herself back to the Gryffindor common room, readying herself for another night of tolerating Dean, telling herself that this was the night she would get it done with, that this was the night she'd figure out some way, ANY way, to "get out the axe", as Fred and George were so fond of saying.

She had just about reached the portrait hole when it burst open and Dean stumbled out in a rush. "Dean?" she asked quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"I dunno," Dean said, and he seemed genuinely confused. "I was playing chess with Neville and I got up to run out here. Mid-move, actually."

As no further explanation seemed forthcoming, Ginny asked, "And why did you do that?"

Dean shrugged. "It just seemed like - like the place to be, you know?"

"No," Ginny said, wondering to herself just when it was that Dean had gone insane.

"I guess I was right, though," Dean said with the grin that Ginny had once found roguish and charming but which these days engendered within her a faint desire to punch Dean right in the teeth. "I mean, my best girl is out here; where else would I want to be?"

That cinched it. He was definitely trying to get on her last nerve. "Right," she said dimly. "Let's go in."

"After you," Dean said. "Tapeworm, please!" At the sound of the password, the Fat Lady swung the portrait open. Ginny climbed through with Dean right beside her.

Halfway through, she felt him reach over and push her through. It wasn't even a remotely helpful gesture this time; it caused her to stumble through the door more than it helped her walk through it. "Don't push me please, Dean!" she said curtly. "You're always doing that; I can get through perfectly well on my own…"

"Relax already," Dean snapped. "I didn't touch you, all right? Merlin knows that's off-bounds these days…"

"Why you… " Ginny began, spinning to look at him. But she stopped. Through the portrait, she had seen… had she? It was a trainer, flipping briefly into existence and then flicking out just as quickly, as if somebody had dropped a curtain over it.

" … sneaking up there with her!" Ginny heard from over her shoulder; she turned around to see a hysterical Lavender berating Ron as he and Hermione stood, trapped, in the stairwell to the boy's dormitories. "I knew it all along!" Lavender was screaming. "All along I knew it! Do you think I'm stupid? DO YOU?"

Unless there had been some serious advancement in their relationship of which Ginny was unaware, Ron and Hermione were not sneaking up the boy's dormitories alone. But Harry was nowhere to be seen…

… because, clearly, he had just pushed past Ginny and Dean and out into the hallway under the Invisibility Cloak that was he was getting too tall for and which Ginny was not supposed to know existed. Which meant, of course, that Dean had not tried to help her through the door, and that Ginny owed him an apology.

"Why I what?" asked Dean, eyes cold, clearly fixing for a fight.

"Why…" Ginny said. She stopped. He hadn't done anything wrong. But…

But…

She realized that her window had opened. Their window had closed. Why was she fighting this anymore? Where was her nerve?

"Why do you keep insisting," Ginny said coldly, "on helping me through doors? I'm not a child, DEAN, and I don't need your help!"

"Fine," said Dean, "I'll stop. Happy now?"

"No!" Ginny cried. "I'm not!" She could feel the room silently emptying out around them. Lavender was having it out with Ron. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione, who had slipped away from the stairwell and now was looking back and forth between the two feuding couples in disbelief.

_Stay where you are, Hermione,_ Ginny thought. _You'll enjoy this._

"I'm not happy, Dean," she said coldly. "And I haven't been for some time, if you must know."

"You think I've been?" he retorted. "You don't talk to me, you don't look at me, you won't touch me… it's embarrassing! I walk around here with a girlfriend who can't stand me, and everyone knows it! What am I supposed to do about it?"

"I don't know, Dean!" Ginny said, throwing her hands up. "What would you like to do about it?"

Dean gaped at her. "You don't even deny it," he said in amazement. "You bloody well can't stand me, and you haven't even got the decency to deny it."

"Dean," Ginny sighed, "I can stand you, I can." She took a deep breath. "I'm just not sure… I'm not sure I can stand dating you, that's all."

Dean stared at her blankly. Ginny wondered if he thought they were just having a row, not breaking up. She clenched her jaw. It was too late to back out now. "Can't stand dating me?" Dean spat out. "Why, because I'm a good boyfriend? Because I'm a gentleman? Because I help you through doors?"

"Partially, yes!" Ginny admitted. "I know that makes no sense, but I can't change how I feel. Dean…" she glanced around again; aside from Lavender's abuse of Ron, which she had expanded to the chucking of various school books and ink wells and quills from anyone's bag she could reach at Ron's head, the common room had just about emptied out. Except for Hermione. Who was sitting in a far corner doing homework, or at least pretending to.

"Dean," Ginny said, shaking her head, "tell me honestly: did you really think we were going well?"

"I thought we were going all right," he said stubbornly, though he would not look at her when he did so.

"Bollocks," Ginny challenged.

"Ladies don't speak like that," Dean said stiffly. Ginny waved it off.

"Dean, most every girl here would appreciate all of those things you do," she said, her tone growing softer. "It's just that I don't. I can't explain why, really. Maybe it's because I grew up in a houseful of boys, maybe I'm just weird. I don't know what it is. But all those things you do, LIKE helping me through doors… they drive me bonkers, Dean. They truly do."

"So I'll stop," Dean said, and something like pleading seeped into his tone.

Ginny shook her head. "It's not just that," she said.

"So what is it?" Dean demanded.

"I'm just… I'm…" Ginny couldn't find the words. Not the right ones, anyway. She looked over to where Lavender was now sitting on the floor next to Ron, sobbing, with her hands buried in her face… except for when she would reach over to punch Ron in the shoulder every few seconds.

Shaking her head, Ginny turned back to Dean. "I'm just not the right girl for you, Dean," she said quietly. "We don't work. It was nice and it was fun, but…" she shook her head.

"I can change, you know," Dean said. "I can; just tell me what you want, and…"

"I wouldn't want that," Ginny assured him. "I wouldn't want you to change for me. You're a perfectly lovely boy, Dean, and someday somebody will appreciate that. They will. It's just… Dean, that girl won't be me. It isn't me. I'm sorry."

They stood in silence for a moment. In the background, Lavender seemed to be making up new spells that she hoped would turn Ron into something awful.

"So that's it, then?" Dean asked sourly, staring down at his shoes.

"Yes," Ginny said quietly. It was. That was it. Why she had waited so long, she had no idea. She had finally spoken the truth, faced the truth for the both of them. It hadn't been anywhere near as bad as she thought it would be, though it certainly hadn't been pleasant. Gently, she reached up and kissed Dean on the cheek. "I am sorry, Dean. But I would be sorrier to keep lying to you, and to myself. I really would."

Dean didn't say anything. He didn't look at her. He just nodded his head stiffly and did not budge. Lavender was now saying many disparaging things about Ron's ancestry. Ginny thought it might be best if she left before she got offended. "Good-bye, Dean," she said gently. "I never… I never wanted to hurt you. Please know that."

Dean still didn't respond. Ginny stepped away from him, and walked back through the portrait hole and out into the castle. She thought, perhaps, it would be best to give Dean some time to himself, to make as graceful an exit as she could.

It took every bit of strength she had in her not to do cartwheels down the halls of Hogwarts. That strength wasn't enough, as it turned out. She attempted three, landed one. It was a new day.


	20. Chapter 19: Just Pretend

Ginny had been working on her potion in silence for a good fifteen minutes before she felt Slughorn's gaze. She glanced up to see the professor staring at her, a faraway look in his eyes. He had looked dreadful from the moment they had walked into class: bleary-eyed, red-nosed, and with an ice-pack held firmly against his head. "Allergies," he had feebly offered as explanation to the fifth-years, before sinking behind his desk and assigning them "any potion you wish to brew, so long as it is a quiet one."

Now, though, as Ginny's eyes met his, she saw a distant behind them. "Professor?" she asked. "Do you want something?"

It took a few seconds for Slughorn to realize she had been speaking to him. "Mmm - no. No, Miss Weasley, no. That's fine. I was…" he sighed. "I was elsewhere for a moment. Not quite sure how I got there. My apologies." He weakly waved a hand towards her concoction. "Carry on."

They were dismissed from Potions a few minutes before time. Slughorn didn't seem particularly bothered about checking their work. As she and Luna left the room with everyone else, Ginny remembered that she had yet to tell Slughorn what the third scent she had detected in the Amortentia had been. This thought occurred to her every day as she left Potions. She had not yet encountered the desire to divulge in him the answer, and she was fairly certain that she never would.

"You're happy today," Luna observed as they walked down the hall.

"Am I?" Ginny asked, blissfully aware that she had walked around for much of the morning and early afternoon with a smile on her face.

"Yes," Luna said. "I don't suppose that relationship was something you really enjoyed, after all."

"I suppose it wasn't," said a voice from behind them. Ginny and Luna turned to find Natalie and Demelza catching up to them. "We come out of our way to find you the minute we heard about you and Dean, which you could have mentioned this morning, by the way…" said Natalie.

"When you didn't sit with him at breakfast, we just thought you'd had a row," Demelza added. "We didn't realize you had broken off with him."

"I have," Ginny said with a shrug. "It just wasn't working out anymore."

"And you're really broken up about it, I can tell," Natalie said.

"ARE you all right?" Demelza asked as the four girls headed towards the Great Hall.

"Demelza," Ginny asked with a broad grin, "does this LOOK like the face of a girl who isn't all right?"

They chatted all the way down to dinner, Ginny enjoying herself more than she had in weeks, feeling completely carefree and easy and… unchained. She hadn't even been aware that she had felt so trapped in her relationship, and now that she was removed from it couldn't understand how she had ever allowed things to reach the state that they had. "Again, it's not that I don't LIKE Dean, or that he ISN'T a perfectly nice bloke," Ginny explained as they crossed into the Hall. "We just weren't, I don't know…"

"Destined to be with each other forever and ever?" Demelza asked breathlessly.

"I was going to say 'compatible'," Ginny said with a shrug. "But yours will do in a pinch."

They said good-bye to Luna, who headed to the Ravenclaw table, and as the three Gryffindor girls turned to walk down to the end of their table, Ginny saw something that made her heart leap into her throat.

Harry.

She hadn't actually "seen" Harry since he had brushed past she and Dean the previous night while under his invisibility cloak, an act she had seized upon as the impetus for their break-up. Her newfound sense of freedom only increased her heretofore unacted upon desire to march up to Harry and…

No. Suppertime in the Great Hall would certainly not be the appropriate time or place for that sort of thing. Particularly since, at that moment, Harry was talking to Dean, still seated at the table next to Seamus, Harry standing above them.

Ginny, Natalie, and Demelza hurried down the table, and Ginny hoped they'd be able to get past them without being noticed. (What she wouldn't have given for an invisibility cloak of her own at just that moment.) As they walked past the boys, Ginny caught a bit of what Harry was saying: "… so you understand, Dean, that it was never a permanent thing, and now that she's back, well…" and then they were out of earshot. She wasn't sure if Dean had seen them, though she had seen out of the corner of her eye Harry looking in her direction as she passed, probably irritated that she had gone and made what was already a difficult spot for him even more uncomfortable. She could have kicked herself.

"What was Harry saying to Dean?" Demelza asked as they sat down at the far end of the table.

"I expect he was telling Dean that he's not on Quidditch anymore," Ginny said.

"He's not?" asked Demelza.

"No," Ginny replied with a glance down the table where a group of seventh years were huddled around a very-popular and very-missed young lady. "Katie Bell's back."

She stole a peek back down the other end of the table. Harry had returned to sit with Ron and Hermione, and Dean and Seamus were glaring at him. Dean then turned and made eye contact with Ginny. She quickly looked away, and couldn't decide whether or not his sour look was directed towards her or Katie Bell sitting beyond her. Either way, she thought it would be best if she took the smile off of her face.

She couldn't.

The days rolled on and her guilt over Dean, fairly prominent at first, faded with each ugly look he sent in her direction, or in Katie's direction, or (most of all) in Harry's direction. Just a few days after the break-up, she sat in the common room with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, doing homework and pointedly ignoring Dean's whispers and glares from the other side of the room as he sat with Seamus and Parvati. "He's a right foul git these days, isn't he?" Ron muttered, shooting Dean an overprotective brotherly look of his own.

"Just ignore him," Ginny said coolly, doing her best to follow her own advice. "He takes rejection about as well as any other boy."

Harry glanced nervously at Ron. "I can't say as I blame him," Harry said. "I suppose he has a right to be mad at me."

Ginny's head popped up at Harry's comment, and she looked at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks turning pink. "What do you mean?" she said, hoping her voice sounded like less of a squeak than it did to her own ears.

"You know. I kicked him off the team, after all," Harry explained. Ginny nodded and exhaled. Hermione, though, laughed out loud.

"What?" Harry asked defensively.

"I don't think he's staring at you, Harry!" she said with a grin and a sly wink to Ginny that Ginny certainly did not appreciate, not with Ron sitting right there.

"I thought," Neville added unevenly, "that he was staring at Ginny. I mean, I think that's who he's really mad at."

"Oh," said Harry, his own cheeks turning pink at this. "Yes. Well. That makes sense, too, I s'pose."

"Besides, Harry," Ginny said, "you had no choice. Katie is the best Chaser in Gryffindor. Dean's barely a sub. What were you supposed to do?"

"I don't know that she's our BEST Chaser," Harry said thoughtfully. "She's good, yeah, but our best is probably you, Gin."

Now it was Ginny's turn to blush. "Well. Thank you, Harry. That's very nice of you to say." The look between them hung in the air for a moment as they both smiled and nodded pleasantly.

"Well, I dunno about THAT," Ron said loudly, bursting the moment. "Katie's pretty good and has the longer track record. But since you brought it up, Harry, I've got some strategy ideas I haven't told you yet…"

As Ron prattled on, Ginny looked to him to give him a scowl of her own that he didn't see, and then glanced back to Harry, who had buried himself back into his work as Ron kept chattering away. Ron noticed nothing. Hermione looked about fit to burst with laughter. Neville looked confused, but kept looking back and forth between Harry and Ginny as if trying to work out a particularly difficult concept in Transfiguration.

With a quiet sigh, Ginny returned back to her work. Now that she was free and clear and single, she knew exactly what she wanted… but with a surreptitious glance at Harry, she realized that she had no idea how to start down that path, and although she had hunches gleaned from love potions and dreams and phoenixes, she really had no idea if Harry felt about her the way that she felt about him.

He was giving no outward sign that he did, though, something that was starting to frustrate Ginny to no end. Truth was, nobody in Gryffindor seemed to want to discuss anything but Quidditch, which normally would be a welcome state of affairs but which was, at the moment, maddening to her. If only she could get Harry alone, and get a chance to gauge his feeling towards her… but her miserable sodding brother seemed attached to Harry at the hip even more that usual these days, constantly discussing strategy for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw. Still, Ginny found that her mood was particularly buoyant since her breakup, and not even Ron's inadvertent interference could dampen her mood much.

The one thing she hadn't anticipated after her break-up? The boys.

In just the week-and-a-half following her break-up from Dean, three different boys asked her out. She was absolutely flabbergasted. One Gryffindor fourth year, a Slytherin fifth year (of all people), and a Hufflepuff sixth year. "Thanks anyway," she called sweetly after the latter as he walked quickly away from the Gryffindor table where he had approached Ginny at dinner one evening.

She shook her head as she sat back down. She barely even knew that one's name. "Another one?" asked Demelza. Natalie snorted back a laugh.

"I don't understand," Ginny said. "I…" But she was at a complete loss for words. It was flattering, and a year ago she probably would have been as happy as a child in Honeyduke's, but now… now she couldn't possibly have less interest in any of them if she had tried.

"Look at Dean; he's fuming," Natalie muttered. Ginny risked a glance down the table, but not to look at Dean. She instead searched out Harry's face. He was chewing slowly and looking at her with much the same expression he had given her way back when he and Ron had interrupted she and Dean in the secret passageway, an expression that had been seared into her brain and had upset her so, an expression she had (after much contemplation) decided was best interpreted as much the same brotherly overprotection that Ron often displayed towards her.

Which was, she thought glumly as she chewed her own food, exactly the type of feeling she DIDN'T want Harry to have towards her.

Still, it was tough to keep her down these days for long, particularly on the one place where she was traditionally happiest: the pitch. Quidditch practice had again become her favorite part of the day. With Katie back the team felt whole, and without Dean there Ginny felt faster and stronger than ever, and was enjoying herself and the game more than she had all year. She was feeling so bloody fantastic about life in general that she went so far as to treat the team to spot on impressions of Harry and McLaggen during their in-match confrontation in order to illustrate to Katie just how low the team had sunk in her absence. It was only halfway through her performance that she wondered what in the bloody hell she was doing… but the sight of Harry doubled over in laughter on his broom was more than enough to chase away her doubts.

Honestly, though, her game performance at practice was suffering. She was spending far too much time keeping her eye on the Seeker and far too little time keeping her eye on the Quaffle. "What's with you?" Ron half-scolded her as they locked up the equipment after yet another practice where Katie had outperformed her. "I think I was right; Katie's our best Chaser after all."

"Bollocks, Ron," Katie said playfully as she walked past, hurrying after Demelza, Coote and Peakes. "Wait until game-day. Ginny'll fly rings around me."

"We'll see about that!" Ron called after her as Harry emerged from the equipment shed, locking it behind him.

"Ready to go up?" Harry asked Ginny.

"Ready; let's go, I'm starving," said Ron, pulling Harry along. "I've had some new ideas about defending against the Ravenclaw Seeker, Harry."

"Ron," Harry moaned, "we can't possibly use all of the new ideas that you've come up with…"

"But this one's really good!" said Ron excitedly, pulling Harry along. Ginny trudged after them with a dejected sigh; clearly, it was not her destiny to get Harry alone. Not today, anyway.

As she walked up the path from the pitch to the castle, her gaze floated out towards the Hogwarts grounds. It was a beautiful May evening, and the sun was beginning to set over the Forbidden Forests to their backs, shining across the lake. Ginny could see the tentacles of the giant squid waving lazily in the late spring warmth, and students lolling on the banks as though all was right with the world. She stopped and stared out over them, held to that spot by some unknown force.

"Are you coming?"

She turned with a gasp. Harry stood there, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb back towards the castle. "Where's Ron?" she asked.

"Right there," Harry answered, gesturing to where Ron and Hermione were arguing thirty or so yards up the road.

"What are they fighting about?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? The weather, dinner, homework… it's anyone's guess, really." He followed her gaze out over the lake; they stood in silence together for a moment, staring out. "Wow," Harry finally said quietly. "That's… that's really pretty."

Ginny nodded. She could hear Ron and Hermione bickering, but she tuned it out. A lifetime living with Ron had granted her that ability.

She again looked down at the students on the shores of the lake, carefree and happy. A thought popped into her head; she wondered what Harry saw when he looked at them. She suddenly didn't understand how they could look as happy as they did… but perhaps they didn't know what she knew, what little she knew, about the threat that was really out there. It was something, honestly, she managed to ignore most of the time, but with Harry there, standing over her shoulder (and she was quite overwhelmingly aware of his presence behind her)… suddenly the weight of what was really going on in the world hit her as hard as it had since Christmas holiday at The Burrow.

"What do you want to do with your life?" Ginny asked Harry quietly and quite suddenly, still gazing out over the lake. "What do you want to be? When you're done here?"

Harry grimaced. "I have some trouble thinking of that, to be honest," he replied. "It's not exactly a given that I'm going to have much of a future, you know."

Ginny turned to him. "Pretend," she pleaded. "Pretend that none of this is happening to you. Pretend that all of our lives are normal, and all we have to worry about is what we're going to do with ourselves when we no longer have Hogwarts and Quidditch and Herbology and all of this nonsense to distract us. Just for a moment… pretend."

Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. "Pretend," he repeated quietly. "That's hard for me to do." Ginny nodded. He continued. "I've only ever thought about being an Auror after leaving Hogwarts. But I think that's probably because of what my life has been. He… Voldemort… killed my parents, I grew up an orphan, and then I came here, and even though coming to Hogwarts felt like finding where I belonged for the first time in my life, I was still…" he stopped for a moment, searching for the words.

"I was 'Harry Potter'," he went on. "Not just me, Harry, but 'Harry Potter'. I was in textbooks and everyone knew who I was and pointed at me and whispered when I walked down the hall. I was famous and a target and hated by some teachers and overprotected by others."

He took a breath. Ginny continued to hold hers without even realizing she was doing it. "I love my friends," he continued, "and I don't know where I'd be without Ron and Hermione and all of you, but even here at Hogwarts, it's kind of been like being at the Dursleys, in some ways. I still have always sort of felt… I don't know…"

"Alone?" asked Ginny.

Harry nodded. "Yeah." he answered. "It sounds silly, I know…"

"Not so silly," Ginny disagreed. "You've been alone because Riddle killed your parents, and because," her eyes glanced up to the scar on his forehead, "because he marked you, in a number of ways. No matter what, for good or for bad, you stand out. Apart." Shaking her head, she repeated, "It's not silly at all."

"And I guess I've just thought that I'd like to make sure that nobody else gets to do what he did to me to anyone else ever again," Harry continued, staring out over the lake. "Make them feel so alone. And the Auror Department seems the place to be if that's what I want to do."

"That's a lot to put on yourself, Harry," Ginny offered quietly. "You can't hold back all of the world's darkness all alone."

"There's that word again," Harry said wryly. "'Alone'."

"Story of your life," Ginny replied.

They stood together in silence for another moment. Ginny risked a glance at Hermione and Ron, still up the path, and saw Hermione trying to guide Ron back to the castle; she suddenly realized what the girl was doing and she felt an instant wellspring of fondness for her. Now if only her git of a brother would listen!

Harry turned to her. "What about you?" he asked. "Pretend you and your family aren't in danger because they're in the Order and because Ron had the bad luck of sitting with me on the train. What would you want to do?"

"You need to stop that," Ginny said firmly. "I've told you before, and I'm going to stop if you insist on being pig-headed about it, but let's say it one more time: Ron sitting with you was tremendous good luck. You have saved the lives of he, and I, and my father, and probably more of us but we're just too bloody foolish to see it. Anyway, we're all in the Order," she said, cutting off his protests before he could offer them, "so we're all targets because of that, and that has nothing to do with you. Not everything does, you know," she added with a touch of cheek.

Harry smiled, but said insistently, "What about you?"

"Me." Ginny took a deep breath. "Okay. You're going to laugh at me."

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"Absolutely not."

"I've never told anyone before."

"You have to start somewhere."

"Fine." She turned away from him and made sure to study intently some vague feature on the far side of the lake, hoping he would not see her blush. When she spoke, she did so quietly; Merlin forbid Ron come closer right at that moment and overhear her. "I think I want to play Quidditch."

She waited. He did not laugh.

"Professional Quidditch," she added. That should do it.

Still nothing.

"Like, you know, a professional." Now she just sounded silly.

She snuck a peek at him, expecting to see him with his hand over his mouth, holding back his glee at her expense. He wasn't. He was simply nodding as if he understood, a small smile upon his lips.

"Yeah…" he said. "That would be great."

"This isn't just some dream," she warned. "I really think that's what I want to do."

"I think you should," Harry agreed.

"Really?" asked an incredulous Ginny.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Why wouldn't you? Wood did it; why can't you? And you're a better Chaser than he is Keeper, and he's more than fair, you know? I think that's great."

"You mean it?" Ginny said with some surprise. She had half expected to be laughed out of the castle the first time she shared that thought of hers with anyone, but the eagerness with which Harry jumped on board made it seem that much more possible.

"It'll be hard," Harry amended.

She shrugged. "Like that's ever stopped me from anything before."

"True. Be sure to send me an invite to your first match, won't you?"

"You'll be the first to know," Ginny said with a smile.

"Oi!" called out Ron, marching towards them. Behind him, Hermione looked positively livid, her arms folded, glaring at Ron… but she said nothing. "Are you two coming? Hermione looks to have lost all idea of what 'dinner' means, but I'm starving. How 'bout it?"

"Yeah," said Harry, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah, sorry. Let's go."

Ron nodded happily, and turned back up the path. Hermione threw Ginny an apologetic look before hurrying up after him, continuing to mutter angrily at him.

Harry and Ginny fell into step behind them. "You know," Harry said quietly, "I think I know what else I'd like to be."

"Oh?" Ginny asked. "What's that?"

Harry continued, and he seemed to be very particular about not looking at her. "I'd like… I'd like to be normal. Just… to have a family, and go to work, and have a normal life that doesn't involved evil wizards with a vendetta against me, and prophecies, and all of this. I'd like that."

Ginny's stomach suddenly lurched itself into knots upon knots. "I see," she said evenly, risking a glance at him. Harry was not looking at her, but his face was carrying the faintest hints of a blush. Ginny swallowed hard. "Any, ah…" she began, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer. "Any idea with whom you'd like to share this utterly boring and normal life with?"

Harry shook his head, but still didn't look at her. "I haven't quite figured that part out yet." He was definitely blushing now, for whatever that was worth.

Ginny nodded. "Well," she said evenly. "Be sure to send me an invite to the wedding."

Harry grimaced. "I don't know that I'm likely to last that long, to be honest."

"Shhhh," Ginny chided playfully. "Don't say that. We're pretending, remember?"

At that, Harry turned his head with a smile. Their eyes made contact. Her insides exploded in a fireworks display wilder than Fred and George could ever have conceived. She quickly made a loud and off-putting remark about Ron's skills as Keeper. Harry laughed, as did Hermione. Ron scowled but gave it right back to her. They all sat together in the Great Hall. Ginny and Ron continued to trade barbs. Harry laughed at each of them, as carefree and happily as she had ever seen him.

It was the best dinner Ginny had eaten in a very long time.


	21. Chapter 20: Ron's Little Sister

"What do you mean you can't play on Saturday?" Katie cried, speaking for the team.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team members were standing together in the hallway outside of their common room entrance, and their captain was in the midst of giving them the worst news they possibly could have received the week of a match.

"I can't play," Harry repeated miserably, looking at the ground, determinedly not looking at his teammates. "Detention. With Snape."

"But the match, Harry!" Ron insisted, turning a slight shade of green. "Here, let's go talk to McGonagall, I'm sure she'll -"

"No," Harry said, sounding even more miserable, if that were possible. "She won't. She shouldn't. I'm not playing, Ron. That's it."

"Why not?" asked Demelza quietly.

Harry ignored the question. "Ginny'll play Seeker in my place," he said, though he didn't look at her. "And Dean," he said, turning to Ginny's ex, "you'll have to take her spot as Chaser." Dean nodded dumbly, so shell-shocked by this turn of events that he had completely forgotten to glare at anybody angrily.

They all stood together in an uncomfortable silence. Ginny could tell that the other team members had dozens of unanswered questions they wanted to ask, but as for her... it was taking everything she had to keep herself from going to Harry, embracing him, telling him everything was going to be all right... "So that's it then, Harry?" she instead asked quietly. "You can't play, for certain?"

Harry nodded, but still would not look at her. "That's it," he confirmed.

"What happened?" Dean asked. "We heard something about the bathroom... and Malfoy."

"I'm sorry, everyone," Harry said, not answering Dean's question. "I'm sure you'll be brilliant." With that, he moved away from them, shoulders drooped about as low as shoulders could go, through the portrait and into the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny and Ron looked at each other and quickly followed Harry through the portrait. He had already crossed the room to sink miserably onto one of the couches by the fireplace. Ron and Ginny hurried towards him but Hermione got there first, getting up from her homework and sitting next to him on the couch.

"What happened?" Hermione asked as Ginny sat on his other side and Ron pulled a chair closer.

"Yeah, mate, would could you possibly have done to earn detention on this Saturday of all days?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Actually, I have detention every Saturday until the end of term."

"What?"

"And I deserve it," he added disgustedly.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked again. And Harry explained: about following Malfoy into a boys bathroom, where he had been sobbing and crying to Moaning Myrtle about how he couldn't do... something, and how... someone was going to kill him, about Malfoy seeing him in the reflection of a mirror and started hurling hexes at him, about Malfoy beginning what sounded like the Cruciatus Curse and Harry countering with a spell he had learned in his Advanced Potions books from the Half-Blood Prince, and they gasped as he described how this _Sectumsempra _spell had sliced Malfoy's chest open as neatly as if he had used a sword. Harry then went on to describe Myrtle's raising of the alarm, and Snape's arrival, and Harry's own mad dash to swap out his Potions book with Ron's, stowing his own in the Room of Requirement... and finally ending with how, although Malfoy would heal from the wounds Harry had given him (quite unintentionally, in Ginny's opinion), Snape had levied his punishment of Saturday detentions on him.

The story left Ginny fuming. Clearly, Malfoy had been using an Unforgivable Curse, and clearly Harry hadn't MEANT to harm Malfoy! How in the world could Harry's punishment be justified? She opened her mouth to say as such, but Hermione beat her to it.

"Hmmph," said the older girl in disgust. "I won't say 'I told you so'..."

Ginny's mouth dropped. She was speechless. Was Hermione really going to blame Harry for this?

"Leave it, Hermione," said Ron angrily, clearly in full agreement with his sister.

But Hermione would not, or could not, 'leave it.' "I told you there was something wrong with that prince person," she went on, and it sounded a little too much like a gloat for Ginny's liking. "And I was right, wasn't I?"

"No, I don't think you were," Harry shot back.

"Harry," Hermione said with the exasperation of one explaining something to a very small child, "how can you still stick up for that book when that spell -"

"Will you stop harping on about the book!" Harry snapped at her. "The Prince only copied it out! It's not like he was advising anyone to use it! For all we know, he was making a note of something that had been used against him!"

"I don't believe this," said Hermione, throwing her hands in the air. "You're actually defending -"

"I'm not defending what I did!" Harry said. "I wish I hadn't done it, and not just because I've got about a dozen detentions. You know I wouldn't've used a spell like that, not even on Malfoy, but you can't blame the Prince, he hadn't written, 'Try this out, it's really good' – he was just making notes for himself, wasn't he, not for anyone else..."

"Are you telling me," said Hermione, her eyes narrowing, "that you're going to go back- ?"

"And get the book?" Harry finished. "Yeah, I am. Listen, without the Prince I'd never have won the Felix Felicis. I'd never have known how to save Ron from poisoning, I'd never have -"

"- got a reputation for Potions brilliance you don't deserve," Hermione snapped at him.

"Give it a rest, Hermione!" Ginny finally blurted out, unable to hold her tongue any longer. It was bad enough that Hermione was battering Harry when he was so clearly miserable and repentant, but the older girl almost seemed happy that her vaunted nemesis the Half-Blood Prince had proven himself to be such a troublemaker. "By the sound of it Malfoy was trying to use an Unforgivable Curse; you should be glad Harry had something good up his sleeve!"

Hermione looked stunned, but Harry looked up at Ginny for the first time since he had called the team out into the hall to talk to her. His look of relief and gratitude at her words further emboldened her resolve. "Well, of course I'm glad Harry wasn't cursed!" Hermione said defensively. "But you can't call that _Sectumsempra _spell good, Ginny, look where it's landed him! And I'd have thought, seeing what this has done to your chances in the match- "

"Oh, don't start acting as if you understand Quidditch," snapped Ginny. "You'll only embarrass yourself!"

Afraid of what else she might say to Hermione if further provoked, Ginny turned away from her and folded her arms, willing her pulse to slow down and her temper to recede. When she had calmed down a bit, she took a peek back over her shoulder. Ron had buried himself in a book that she was fairly certain belonged to her, Hermione had taken up a similar furious pose as she on the other end of the couch, and Harry was still looking back and forth between the two of them. Ginny caught his eye momentarily and he offered her a little half-smile of gratitude. She returned it, her stomach flipping a bit as she did. She suddenly felt much, much better about the whole thing.

They passed the rest of the evening in silence, each of them falling into their homework. When Ginny excused herself a short while later to head up to bed, Hermione caught up with her in the staircase to the girl's dorms. "Listen," she hissed to Ginny, still apparently very put out about the whole thing, "just because you like him doesn't mean you have to defend him! I didn't appreciate that."

"I didn't defend him because I like him," Ginny shot back to her. "I defended him because he didn't do anything wrong! He was attacked and he defended himself! I would have done the same!"

"So you do like him!" Hermione said with a grin.

Ginny turned as red as she had all night, cursing herself for not seeing Hermione's verbal trap. "That was dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty!" she spat at the older girl. "And," she added as she opened the door to the fifth-years dorm, "I never said that!"

It was painful to watch Harry for the rest of the week. As often as Ginny and Ron tried to prop him up and assure him that missing the match wasn't his fault, the anger of the other Gryffindors and the taunts of the Slytherins continued to deflate him. On the morning of the match, the team met at the top of the breakfast table as usual before heading down to the pitch together. As they passed Harry, his face practically buried in his oatmeal, they all murmured half-hearted donworryaboutit's to him, none of which sounded particularly sincere.

Ginny stopped behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her. Hermione was watching intently from the other side of the table but right at that moment Ginny really didn't care. "Hey," she told him, "for the hundredth time, this isn't your fault."

Harry nodded sadly. "Thanks, Gin," he said quietly. "I appreciate that. But..."

Ginny nodded in agreement. "I know," she said. "We wish you were coming too. But don't worry," she added, hoisting her broom. "I'll bring the Snitch back for you." And with a small wave, her heart breaking in two at the forlorn look in his eyes and the half-hearted wave he returned to her, she was off.

When she reached the locker room, the team was already assembled but nobody was saying a word. "Wow," Ginny asked, setting down her broom and taking in the morose group in front of her. "Who died?"

"Our season," Coote grumbled.

"He couldn't wait another week to hex Malfoy?" Peakes chimed in. "I don't blame him, but he couldn't wait?"

"Tough to wait around for that when the other bloke's trying to curse your face off," Ron replied hotly.

"Relax, Ron," Katie said. "Trust me, I'm sure Malfoy deserved it, but still… just when we had our whole team back together, this has to go and happen."

"What?" Ron demanded. "This is nothing! Look, if this team can survive you getting cursed and me at Keeper, we'll be fine! Ginny can play Seeker; she's done it loads of times! And Dean's a great Chaser! What are we worried about?"

But Ron's words had minimal effect in cutting through the thick cloud of doom and gloom that had settled on the Gryffindor locker room. Ginny sighed. "All right," she declared. "We can't afford to go out there dragging. We need to play aggressively."

"That's helpful," muttered Dean.

"No, Dean," said Ginny, putting extra emphasis on his name, "we can't afford to go out there dragging because we're playing Ravenclaw." The blank faces of the rest of the team stared at her; they didn't understand. She continued. "Ravenclaw's strength is always in its game planning. They always come out to the pitch with the best strategy of any of the four houses, which stands to reason."

"That's a little on-the-nose, don't you think?" asked Ron skeptically. Ginny turned her head to answer him, but it was Katie who spoke up.

"No," she said. "Ginny's right. They always know exactly what they're out there to do, and if they can execute that plan, they win." Katie seemed to be catching on to Ginny's line of thought. "But if they're thrown off of their plan…"

"They can't recover," said Ginny. "They're Ravenclaws. They were sorted into that house for a reason. They think first and act second."

"So we just can't give them the opportunity to think," said Demelza excitedly.

"Right," nodded Ginny. "We need to be aggressive, so we can't mope out there. Lean into them. Throw them off their game."

"Play like Slytherin?" asked Peakes, to appreciative chuckles.

"Now you're on to it," said Ginny, smiling. "But without the cheating."

Dean chuckled heartily. "Who died and made you team captain?" he asked in such a way that it seemed he was only half kidding. Ginny was about to retort, but was again cut off by Katie.

"She's the best player on the team, without Harry here," Katie said. Ginny spun to protest, but Katie shushed her. "Oh, you are," she said. "Since when have I been too proud to admit things like that?"

"Actually, she might be the best player on the team even if Harry were here." Ginny turned to Ron, her mouth agape. As much as she secretly had agreed with Katie's assessment, she almost could not believe the praise Ron was giving her, especially at Harry's expense. Ron just looked at her and shrugged. "What? S'true," he said nonchalantly.

"All right!" Peakes had jumped on one of the locker room benches. "Who's ready to win this one for Gryffindor?"

With a responding cry of, "For Gryffindor!" the team whooped as one and charged out of the locker room. Trailing behind the rest of the team, Ginny pulled Ron by the elbow, and he turned towards her.

"Thank you, Ron," she said quietly. "That was…"

He shrugged her off, blushing a little. "Forget it, Gin. I meant it. You're good. Should've let you use my broom more often, I guess."

Ginny grinned. "I guess you should have," she teased. Ron smiled, but then looked concerned.

"You are good, Gin, but your best position really is Chaser. You're going to be able to catch the Snitch all right?"

"Please," said Ginny with a snort as she turned to march out to the field. "As though I would ever let Cho Chang beat me at something."

Given the funk they had been in only minutes earlier, Ginny was stunned by the energized play of the Gryffindors. They had come out hard and aggressive, according to plan. Demelza, Katie, and Dean flew up and down the pitch faster than they had at any practice, Peakes and Coote were smacking Bludgers left and right and all over the field into Ravenclaw Chasers, and Ron had made more than his fair share of shoe-string catches over at the goal hoops.

Ginny, for her part, was circling the stadium high in the air, much as Harry would have done, her eyes peeled for the Snitch. She could accelerate faster than Harry would have been able to, but Harry was faster overall; still, she hoped her initial burst of speed would be enough to fool Cho Chang, who was flying fairly aggressively herself, buzzing Ginny several times for no real reason, and giving her nasty looks as she did so.

Ravenclaw had been thrown off completely by Gryffindor's out-of-character play, and their attack had gone into complete shambles as a result. The Gryffindor lead steadily climbed to fifty points, one-hundred points, one-hundred and fifty points... they were up two-ninety to one hundred at one point, but then Ravenclaw managed to adjust their game and slowly began to sneak up the scoreboard. When a Ravenclaw goal turned the score to two-ninety to one-thirty in Gryffindor's favor, Ginny began to sweat a little more: she needed one more goal on the board before she could grab the Snitch, because anything less than four-hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor and they wouldn't have enough points to get themselves the House Cup, an out come she had decided would be completely unacceptable.

She circled furiously, scanning the skies left and right, not bothering to listen to the commentary for clues of the Snitch's whereabouts as Luna was not calling the game anymore but had spent the past ten minutes discussing the secret lives of shirtless werewolves, a new height of absurdity even for her.

Just then, Ravenclaw scored again. Two-ninety to one-forty, and a Snitch capture for Ravenclaw would end the game in a tie and Gryffindor would fall well short of their needed points total. The crowd in blue roared; Ginny swore under her breath. Then, as the first roar died down, a second quickly rose up.

"Gin! Gin! Look!" Ron shouted at her from the goal post, pointing behind her. She spun her head around, and her heart sank as she saw Cho Chang diving to the ground. Ginny spun her broom around and charged after her; looking past her, she saw it: the Golden Snitch skimming low along the pitch, a few inches above the grass.

Ginny wasn't going to make it. Cho was stretching out her hand, reaching out to grab the victory that would deny Gryffindor the House Cup, when Ginny heard the crack of the Beater's bat from behind her. She instinctively ducked her head and an instant later a Bludger sailed right through the spot her skull had just been, careening down towards the ground and towards Cho. The Ravenclaw girl had to spin to avoid it, careening off-course, losing sight of the Snitch as she did so.

Ginny turned her head to see Coote hovering above her. "Bought you some time, captain!" he shouted with a grin. Ginny grinned back, but then was almost knocked off her broom by a bolt of crimson streaking past her.

"I've got this!" Katie shouted over her shoulder as she sped downfield with the Quaffle. "Get the Snitch, now!"

Without a word in reply, Ginny shot her broom forward to the appreciative roar of the crowd. Katie was going to take the Quaffle downfield and get them that last score, and then it would be up to Ginny to do her part and end this match!

She dove down to the grass, scanning for the Snitch; Cho was doing the same. They both saw it at the same instant, darting around by the Ravenclaw goal posts, and they both shot out for it at the same time. Ginny could sense Katie streaking above her on roughly the same route, headed for the goal hoops; Ginny had faith her teammate could bring the Quaffle home, but she had to wait for that goal to score before getting the Snitch. She urged her broom forward, bending low as she flew, trying to streamline her body as much as possible.

The Snitch suddenly shot up the post of the goal, and Ginny and Cho both climbed after it as the crowd screamed in delight. Ginny watched the flight of the Snitch as the two Seekers drew closer and closer. The little golden ball flew right past the face of the concentrating Ravenclaw Keeper, shattering his focus, allowing Katie to swoop in and score the goal the Gryffindors so desperately needed; it was now three-hundred to one-forty, in Gryffindor's favor, and Ginny was free and clear to grab the Snitch!

A roar went up from the supporters in red and gold. Ginny glanced to her side, expecting Cho to change tactics as the opposing Seeker now needed to wait for Ravenclaw to score again before grabbing the Snitch. Cho, though, seemed a little slow to realize what it was she now needed to do, and Ginny took complete advantage of the brain freeze, urging her broom forward and reaching out for the winged ball of gold that was now mere inches from her hand as she climbed. Just a little further, a little further...

… but then Cho had recovered her senses, and swung her broom into Ginny's path, knocking them both off-course. Tangled together, they feel a few dozen feet towards the ground, both righting themselves just inches from impact. "Well," Cho said satisfactorily, "game on, then?"

But Ginny just smiled, and held up her hand. There, pinched between her thumb and forefinger, flapping its little glittering wings madly, was the Golden Snitch.

Cho's face fell as a roar exploded from the Gryffindor side of the stands. Ginny held the Snitch high, and she could hear the excited whooping of her approaching teammates. Just before they engulfed her in a mid-air hug, she looked the Ravenclaw Seeker in the eye, and growled in a tone of voice that Ginny had never heard herself use before, "MINE!"

The party was epic. It was legendary. The Gryffindor common room was the sight of a celebration the likes of which Ginny had never seen. Although maybe it just seemed that way, as she was not much involved in it. She had spent much of the party being congratulated and hugged and squealed with and regaled with a retelling of what she had just a short time earlier actually done... but as soon as she was able, she extracted herself from all of the appreciative Gryffindors wanting to celebrate their unlikely victory with her and returned to what she had spent the entire party doing; namely, watching the front door. From the moment she had caught the Snitch and declared her ownership of it to Cho, her heart had pounded with only one desire: to see Harry, to tell him what they had done, how they had won the House Cup for him and for all of Gryffindor, to...

The possibilities seemed endless. The party wasn't whole. The victory was hollow. She felt a sucking, anxious hole in her chest. Why wasn't he here?

And why was Dean walking towards her with a glass of Butterbeer?

"Here," said Dean. "Got you a drink to celebrate." Ginny nodded absentmindedly and took the proffered glass. He had been staring at her the whole party, and she had been expertly trying to avoid him. "Thanks," she said, not really meaning it. She made a concerted effort not to look at him. She hoped he'd notice. He did.

"I was going to ask if we could go somewhere private and talk," he said. Ginny grimaced, then realized how visibly she had done so. She glanced at her ex, and it was clear he thought so as well. "I was going to, but it's pretty obvious you're not interested in that."

"Dean," Ginny began, patiently. "We've been over this. We're over. I'm sorry, but… that's it. We don't need to talk in private, or do anything in private for that matter."

"But –"

"No." There was an awkward silence. Feebly, Ginny added, "Thanks for the Butterbeer, though." This was followed by another awkward pause. Ginny wished heartily that Dean would just walk away but he seemed to have no such intentions. Involuntarily, she again glanced at the portrait hole, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Looking for someone?" spat Dean.

_Yes_, Ginny thought. "No," she said defensively.

Dean looked at the portrait hole himself and shook his head. "I feel badly for you, Ginny, I really do."

"Well, don't." Her pity for Dean was quickly running out and she was feeling more and more the urge to throw the glass he had gotten her back in his face.

"You've got yourself all worked up over Harry, haven't you?" Dean leveled his gaze towards her again. Ginny stubbornly refused to look at him. She instead turned towards the roaring fire across the room where Ron was holding court, this time with Hermione at his side. She caught Hermione's eye and received a concerned glance in return. Ignoring her, Ginny turned back to Dean.

"And what if I have?" she said, suddenly not caring anymore what he or anyone else thought about it. "What bloody business is it of yours?"

"I just don't want to see you get hurt!" retorted Dean.

"Then stop looking," shot back Ginny.

Dean smiled. "Fine," he said sullenly. "Go ahead. Go running to Harry the moment he walks in. Then when you get laughed out of the common room, don't come crying to me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, mate."

"Sure," said Dean. "I don't know what you think he thinks of you. You know you're only Ron's little sister to him."

And there they were. The three little words that could puncture Ginny's burgeoning hope like an arrow to a balloon. "Ron's little sister". With those three words, all of her old doubts and insecurities and feelings of inadequacy about Harry began to well up in her again. Dean was right, of course. She'd been a fool all this time. Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, her brother's best mate Harry Potter, surely only saw her as a little girl with a propensity for sticking her arms in butter dishes. Just some foolish child who had to get rescued from snakes in caves. What had she been thinking? What could she have possibly been thinking?

Ginny looked all around the room. Quidditch hero though she was, she suddenly felt all of eleven years old. All around them Gryffindors were wildly celebrating, but Ginny found she no longer wanted to be among them. She just wanted to go crawl into bed, under her covers, to go home and lie in her room and have her mother bring her some soup and tell her everything would be all right…

_No!_ demanded the little voice in the back of her head. _Absolutely not! You are not eleven years old anymore, and you will not let anyone make you feel that way! Not Harry, not Ron, not this git in front of you, and certainly not yourself!_

She looked up at Dean. "You're wrong," she said firmly. Quietly, true, but firmly.

"Am I?" asked Dean. "That's how Ron sees you."

Ginny smiled. "Ron's supposed to see me as his little sister. I AM his little sister. The prat still thinks I'm eight. But Harry…"

Unbidden, images passed through her mind of the last few months. Playing two-a-side and dodgeball at The Burrow with Harry, the two of them laughing at Ron and Phlegm's expense, their shared exasperation of Ron and Hermione's two-person love triangle, the scarf and the snitch on his birthday, the odd way he had looked at her on the Hogwarts Express when she left him to sit with Dean, the invite to Hogsmeade, the commiseration over their dual nightmares at Madam Puddifoot's, their quieter commiseration over her real-life nightmares, their shared cups of tea at Christmas, the way he DIDN'T laugh at her when she confessed she wanted to play professional Quidditch… he had spent the entire year, she realized, speaking to him as a friend, not as Ron's sister. She had been so typically annoyed, almost out of habit, at being excluded from the inner circle of he, Ron, and Hermione, she hadn't even noticed that she and Harry had become closer by far than they had ever been before, closer than she would have ever dared to imagine they could become back when she was eleven.

And as she realized all this in the blink of an eye, staring through Dean's face into the past, one more memory sprang forward… she and Dean, snogging behind the tapestry… Ron and Harry catching them… Ron's angry rebukes… her own livid explosion… the look, that look, on Harry's face… what was that look…

And then it hit her. The look Harry had had at that moment, the one that had so upset her, the one that she couldn't identify… it suddenly clicked into place, because it was the same look that Dean wore on his face right now as he spoke of Harry.

Jealousy. It had been jealousy. She was stunned. It wasn't possible, was it? Was it? But no. Seeing the same look on Dean now, knowing what it was, she knew that it was true. Harry had been jealous. When he and Ron had pulled back the curtain, and he saw her locked in an embrace with Dean… it had been jealousy that had run across his face. Pure, furious jealousy… and then the awkwardness that had followed, all those months… the hug on the pitch after the match… all the times she had caught him looking at her... all the times he COULDN'T look at her... the irritated glares when other boys talked to her... the blushing, the accidental touches, the brushes on the arm…

Just then, right at that moment, it all came home for her. She didn't need any Amortentia or Phoenix tears or strange dreams to tell her what was so crystal clear she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. She realized the truth, and it had been staring her dead in the face all this time. Now that she realized… well, it was just so obvious.

And clearly, Harry no longer saw her as simply "Ron's little sister".

"Ginny?" She snapped back to reality. Dean was giving her an odd look. "Are you all right?"

She slowly nodded her head. She had just had the revelation of a lifetime, and as she was struck by it, she had stared open-mouthed at Dean for what must have been thirty seconds. The sheer absurdity of the situation, combined with the sudden giddiness fluttering around her chest, the soaring of her heart, it all combined to bring a euphoric grin to her face. "Oh, I'm fine, Dean," she assured him, short of breath, every nerve ending in her body tingling with anticipation. "I'm so much more than fine. I'm… I'm excellent. So excellent you can't even..."

Just then, the portrait door swung open and a cheer rang out. Harry stood in the entranceway, dumbfounded. It seemed he had not expected the team to win without him. Ginny's smile grew even broader. Knocking him down off of THAT peg would be the first thing she had to take care of. It would probably be the only thing. She shoved back into Dean's hand the glass of Butterbeer he had brought for her. "Hold this," she said.

Ron was yelling at Harry, something about the victory and how she had grabbed the Snitch… she did not care. She cared about nothing, now, but reaching Harry. Without a thought, as determined as she had ever been in her life, she found she was walking, no, running towards Harry, pushing Ron out of the way. Harry's eyes met hers, and then she was in front of him, throwing her arms around him… and before she could do it herself, he kissed her.

Five years of pent-up and unrequited emotions exploded around them in a wild display of pyrotechnic brilliance, and it felt as though every Christmas present she had ever wanted had just been wrapped up together in a giant red bow and handed to her in this single kiss. It went on for minutes, hours, days, weeks, years... it would last her forever, she knew. It was as if she had been parched beyond description and hadn't even realized it until she was allowed to drink of this, the deepest and purest well that had ever been. She wanted to cry and smile and laugh and dance and sing, all at the same time… but what delighted her the most, what was so stunning, so wonderfully amazing, was that however powerful her own feelings of joy and satisfaction were, however overwhelmed she was and however hungrily she was kissing Harry… it was so clear that the intensity of all this was not happening in a vacuum, as Harry was, without question, kissing her even more determinedly than she was kissing him.

And it was a relief, most of all, it was such a relief, to know beyond measure that she had been through all of her angst and worrying and uncertainty and that it had not all been for naught, to know that she wasn't crazy and that she wasn't feeling what she had been feeling for all this time alone, by herself, that the universe recognized that something like what was singing in her heart could not exist without a counterpoint, could not survive by itself. This was sure, this was the answer, this was absolutely where she was supposed to be, where THEY were supposed to be.

Nothing else had ever felt so right.

Finally, they broke apart. The real world returned to Ginny's consciousness. She began to realize what had just happened, what she had just done. She looked up at Harry; it seemed the same thing was crossing his mind. Turning, her hands still resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, she followed his gaze. Dean was squeezing the glass of Butterbeer she had handed back to him so hard it had shattered, Romilda looked fit to be hexed, Hermione seemed overjoyed, the big know-it-all, as did Demelza, Natalie was grinning like a bandit, and Ron… Ginny smirked. Ron looked _Stupefied_. She was going to enjoy that part of this.

Whatever this was.

A tiny shiver of doubt ran through her body. What if Harry thought… what if this was just a… what if…

She turned back to him. He was smiling. His eyes were overwhelming. The worry of an instant vanished. She kicked that last stupid remnant of the eleven-year-old version of herself away. She had no more need or time for doubt.

Wordlessly, Harry gestured out of the portrait hole, offering his hand. Smiling in return, she nodded and accepted his assistance through the entranceway. She did not mind the help one bit.

This time.


	22. Chapter 21: A Walk In the Grounds

They stood outside the portrait hole not quite knowing how to act towards each other.

Ginny and Harry had clambered through from the Gryffindor common room with a grin, Harry helping her through and letting the Fat Lady swing back behind them, closing off the shocked faces of their classmates and the stunned silence that came with them.

But now that they were alone...

"So..." said Ginny.

"Er... yes," Harry replied.

They both nodded, as if that nonsense had made some sense.

"Well I should say it's about bloody time!"

Ginny jumped; Harry did as well. They both turned to see the Fat Lady grinning at them from ear to ear. "I've always known with you two, I have! So how did it happen? Eh?"

Ginny looked to Harry quizzically; it was something she was starting to wonder herself. Hadn't it just been she that had been silently falling for him over the past several months? Suddenly she wasn't so sure... but given the thoughtful way in which Harry was now studying her face, an expression she was quite certain mirrored her own, she guessed that he was probably wondering the same thing about her.

"Something HAS happened, hasn't it?" asked the Fat Lady, her grin faltering. "I've been around you students for so long, I'm usually quite good at picking up these things. I'm not mistaken, am I?"

"No," Ginny said quickly, but then glanced to Harry. "Er... I mean... that is..."

"You're not mistaken," Harry said quietly to the Fat Lady though he was looking at Ginny, smiling shyly and blushing fiercely. A grin of her own exploded onto her face. No, she had not been mistaken.

"Well, off with you, then!" cried the keeper of Gryffindor Tower. "Off to whisper sweet nothings and profess your undying devotion and... do other things." She winked, and added in a stage whisper to Ginny, "Do be sure to give me all the juicy details later, won't you, love?"

"I'll see what I can do," Ginny replied with a grin. She turned to Harry. "Shall we, then?"

"A walk?" Harry asked. "I think that... yes, I think that's in order." They walked off together into the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the smiling Fat Lady waving her handkerchief behind them.

They walked in silence for a time; as they went, Ginny stole glances at Harry. He was nervous, she could tell... though truthfully, he was not as nervous as she would have expected him to be. On one of her glances, though, she caught him looking at her in the same split second she was sneaking a look at him.

They both looked away from that.

The silence between them continued. It was fast approaching awkward, and Ginny was beginning to slightly panic when, finally, Harry was the one to break it. "Did you see the look on Ron's face?" he asked.

Ginny grinned. "I certainly did," she said as they turned down a staircase, thinking back to her brother's astounded expression. "That was a perk, wasn't it? And did you see Hermione's?"

Harry chuckled. "I did," he said, sounding sheepish.

"Hmmph," Ginny said, but the smile did not leave her face. "Could she have looked more smug? Wretched know-it-all."

"You're telling me," Harry muttered with a smile and nod of his own. "I practically expected her to call out 'I TOLD YOU SO!'"

They laughed together happily, harmoniously, even, to Ginny's ear. Then she thought about it, and she stopped mid-staircase and turned to Harry, asking, "What did she tell you?" at the very same moment he turned to her and asked, "She knew-what-all?"

"I mean," asked Harry, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his sleeve (a gesture that seemed on Ginny's part somewhat superfluous as they looked perfectly clean to her but then she had never worn glasses so who was she to judge?), "you called Hermione a 'know-it-all.'"

Ginny nodded. "I did."

"So," Harry asked, putting his glasses on and trying very hard (and it was taking everything she had not to laugh mirthfully at his efforts) to appear nonchalant. "What did she... know?"

Ginny peered at him for a moment. "All right," she said. "I can go first."

They continued down the staircase to the Hogwarts entrance hall; the staircase from Gryffindor Tower seemed to have taken them far more quickly than usual to the front door, as if the castle itself thought this would be a conversation wasted on the musty hallways of the school. "So I'll tell you," Ginny began, "although I suppose you already know: when we were younger, there was this little bit of a... thing about me, in regards to you, Harry."

"Was there?" he said earnestly. "I never noticed."

Ginny laughed. "Harry, you are either the sweetest boy in the world," she said happily, "or the most dense. Oh, that's so much better!" That last she said as they stepped out of the castle and into the grounds, the pleasant afternoon sun warm on their faces without being too hot, glittering off the surface of the lake as students lolled about on the grounds, the English countryside atmosphere completed to a 'T' by the visage of Hagrid's thatched cottage lying between the castle and the trees of the Forbidden Forest. "I can't ever remember a day quite as brilliant as this," Ginny said in low satisfaction.

"Neither can I," Harry agreed quietly. They stood there in quiet contentment for several long moments before he said from behind her, "So which is it?"

"Eh?" she turned back to Harry; it seemed as much as she had been studying the scene before them, he had been studying her. The thought of it made her blush, which she was afraid would be painfully evident in the sunlight. "Which is what?"

"Am I the sweetest?" Harry asked. "Or the most dense? Because I'm fairly certain," he added, "it's the second one."

"I promise you it's not," Ginny said with a quiet smile. Standing there on the steps of the school, his eyes pouring into hers, drowning her, she was overwhelmed with the fervent desire to kiss him again...

But not yet.

"Come on!" she said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the grounds, steering them towards the relatively student-free far side of the lake. "So at any rate," she continued, wanting to quickly pass the early years of their acquaintance, "I had this thing about you, or towards you, and that lasted a bit, through my second year or so, but by the end of my third year I had gotten over that."

"Ah," said Harry, but if he had more to add to the subject he didn't.

"Truthfully, Harry," she said, reaching down to pluck a dandelion out of the grass as they walked, "I really do think that we, that is, that you and I..." (why was she blushing again?) "... that is to say... I think that we've become far better friends over the past year or so then ever before. Don't you think?"

"Oh," said Harry. Ginny turned to look at him; he had stopped walking and looked completely crestfallen. What... ? "If you just want to be friends," he continued, "I suppose I understand. I do. That's all right. I suppose it must be awkward for you; I mean, I'm your brother's best mate and all of a sudden I'm telling you..."

"Harry," she said, quickly and firmly, "I do not, under any circumstances, want to just be friends."

"Neither do I!" Harry said quickly, and Ginny smiled; he was awfully cute when he blushed. "So then… er…" He cleared his throat. "What… are we?"

"I think that's what we're talking about," Ginny replied with a smile. They continued to walk hand-in-hand further along the shores of the lake, Ginny twirling her dandelion idly in her other, free hand. "So as I was saying... I think that over the past year or two we've really actually started to be friends."

"I'd agree," said Harry. "Only a friend would take the time to knit a fifteen foot scarf for a birthday present.

"Cheek," Ginny said with a grin. She held her dandelion up, studying its white cloud puff of seedlings as they went. "Did you know that dandelions are a weed?" she asked. "I heard Madame Sprout muttering about that outside the greenhouses as we were all leaving class one day."

"I know," said Harry. "I've spent hours pulling them out of my aunt's garden."

"I would imagine," Ginny said softly, thinking of their summertime game of dodgeball and the brief snapshot of life with his 'family' Harry had offered her that day. "You told me all about them. And that's another thing!" she added, realizing. "There have been times this past year where you've, just… well, you've opened up to me, you see. And normally, it would seem… that is to say, I'd assume things like that you'd save for Ron and Hermione."

Harry shrugged. "Normally, yeah," he said.

"So why me?"

"I don't know," admitted Harry. "It's just… something felt comfortable about telling you those things, Ginny. It seemed… it seemed… I felt like I could trust you," he finally settled on. "Like I wanted to trust you."

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly. "That means a lot to me."

Harry just shrugged; truthfully, for all his talk of comfort he still seemed quite nervous.

"And even with all of that," she said half to herself, "I didn't notice anything at all," she said. "I didn't see anything there."

"You didn't?" Harry asked in puzzlement. "Then how…"

"Hermione," she replied, heading away from the lake now and down towards the far side of the Quidditch pitch. "Hermione saw."

"I knew it," Harry said miserably as he strode along with her, his hand still in hers.

"No, not you," Ginny said. "She saw me. She pointed out to me how much more you had been talking to me, and how I had been talking to you, and…"

She trailed off. Kiss or no, 'involved' or no, this could get embarrassing for her quickly.

"And… ?" asked Harry.

Ginny didn't look at him, instead staring furiously at the dandelion she was twirling ever faster. "And she saw how I would talk to you… and look at you… and how… how unhappy I was with Dean and how forced I was with Dean." She paused; Harry said nothing. She continued. "I mean, I wasn't 'unhappy', like miserable. Just 'unhappy', like… I was just there because I had no place else to be. Like I was just… I don't know, waiting."

There was a good long moment. Harry finally asked her, in a hushed voice, "Waiting for what?"

"Goodness, Harry," she said in a half-mumble, half-laugh, her eyes still downcast from him. "Do I have to spell it out?"

They had reached the Quidditch pitch, reached the stands. She withdrew her hand from Harry's and climbed up the few steps into the first row of the pitch, sitting down. She pulled her sweater around her tighter; she suddenly felt a chill. There were so many emotions she had kept pent up inside of her, bottled away so tightly… it had been alternately exhilarating and terrifying to finally set them free.

In this current moment, she was terrified.

Harry sat next to her; he didn't say anything. Ginny began to wonder if he ever would, if being 'involved' with Harry would lead to an exchange of awkward silences, moments when she would share a feeling and he would be too paralyzed or shy to exchange it with one of his own, when:

"It was torture, you know."

She looked at him quizzically. "What was?"

"Being around you," he said, his eyes staring determinedly at nothing on the pitch. "Being around you and not being able to…" he drifted off; he seemed not to have the words. "You're my best mate's sister," he finally said. "And Ron, he's really, really important to me."

"I know," said Ginny quietly.

"So I didn't want to do anything to risk that," Harry continued. "And then, of course, there was Dean. He's my mate, too, and he is… WAS… your boyfriend." She had the quick urge to shout out protestations; Dean was nothing, meant nothing, barely existed in her heart… but she bit her lip and let Harry continue. "I mean, how would that be, to come in and… another bloke's girl and all that," he muttered.

Silence.

"And then, there's your family to consider," he finally said. "I wouldn't want to upset or offend your parents or your other brothers, everyone in your family has been so good to me, and how would they feel if I were to… if we were, suddenly… " he trailed off again.

More silence.

"And Hermione," he added with a smirk. "As much as it kills me to prove her right sometimes, especially about this…"

"How was she right?" Ginny asked quietly, and she was suddenly aware of the all-encompassing silence that surrounded them, and her heart thumping in her chest.

"Like you said, she saw. In me, too," Harry simply explained. Ginny nodded, and he continued. "Finally, there's…" he reached up and touched his scar; just a brush, really, a barely noticeable gesture if you didn't know to look for it. Ginny did. "There's that," he said, quick to add, "but let's not talk about that right now."

Ginny nodded again; now her eyes were opened and gazing at Harry while his were still fixed firmly on the pitch ahead. He did not seem inclined to speak again immediately, and in what was a rare show of patience she found she was not inclined to insist upon it. Instead, she turned away from him and blew the seeds off of her dandelion, watching them dance away on the wind as she waited.

"So," Harry said finally, and she turned back to him. "Those were all some of the reasons I had for not…" He was searching for it. "For not doing what we did up in the common room," he settled on. Ginny nodded, taking a breath to protest, to say that those reasons were rubbish, when Harry added, "But then I realized that I didn't care about any of them."

Those words of protest died on Ginny's lips. "Wait," she said again. "What?"

"I thought after the match," Harry said quietly, "since I couldn't play, I thought that, if you won, you'd maybe patch things up with Dean, and my chance to…" he trailed off again, but quickly found his voice. "I thought maybe Ron wouldn't mind if you and I somehow became, you know, 'involved', after you broke up with Dean," he said quietly. "Merlin knows I tried to convince myself of that, because… because it was torture. I couldn't take it anymore, you know. I mean I… I… I couldn't…" And here his words did seem to fail him. He turned back to the pitch, his cheeks pink from more than just the bracing air, cooling as the sun set.

But he had said enough for her. She was quite impressed, actually, about how much he had managed to get out.

"I couldn't stop thinking of you," she said softly to him. "Even though I tried, Merlin knows I tried. It wasn't right, and it was unfair to you, everything I was feeling. It would have made things awfully hard if I had told you. So I kept it bottled up, and tried to ignore it." Harry had turned to her, his eyes seeking out hers, their two gazes tethered together as if they shared a lifeline. "But I couldn't deny it," she said. "You kept running through my thoughts, and even my dreams at times."

"Are we talking about me or are we talking about you?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"I don't think it matters," Ginny said, smiling. "Because what you described, 'torture'… that's everything I've been going through. And I couldn't hide it, not completely. Hermione saw, of course, as she never misses a trick, that one. Ron didn't, but he can't even see how mental he is for Hermione."

"He's mad for her," Harry agreed.

"Of course he is, and she for him," Ginny scoffed. "But we'll have time later to talk of that." She realized as she said this that she would now have time and opportunity to talk to Harry about many, many things. An electrical thrill shot up her back. "So you know, Harry, when I split up with Dean, you needn't have worried about he and I getting back together. I split up with him," she whispered, "mostly because… mostly because he wasn't you." She marveled at her own bravery to admit this as if she were watching herself from a great distance, as if she was watching someone else controlling her lips from outside of her body. It was a liberating and terrifying confession to make, and she half expected Harry to up and run.

Instead, he grinned broadly, and blushed more fiercely than ever.

"I suppose if I had known that I wouldn't have worried," he told her. "But be fair, you can't blame me for thinking Dean or some other bloke would come along and ask you out. After all, Ginny, you're really far too pretty for your own good."

She smirked at him, opened her mouth to chide him for using such an obvious line, something she would never have expected from Harry… but then took a closer look at the utter sincerity in his eyes, the straight line of his mouth, the earnest expression of his face… good Merlin, was he serious?

"I mean, someone would have undoubtedly asked you out," Harry said, starting to look puzzled at Ginny's lack of response. "How could they not have?"

Ginny blinked once, blinked twice, blinked a third time. She didn't know why she was so stunned; after all, he had kissed her in front of all of their friends (and family), and here he was now, confessing that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her all year. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that he found her to be… attractive. And yet… "Wait," she finally said. "You think… you think I'm pretty?"

"Um… yeah?" Harry said, taken aback. "I mean, of course I do. You're beautiful."

He said it so plainly, so matter-of-factly, that she didn't know how to respond. The color drained from her face. "Thank you," she said quietly, shushing inside of her the screaming, cart-wheeling 10-year-old. "And I think," she quickly added, "that you're very… you're very hand…"

"Uggh," Harry said, pulling a face. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" she demanded. "If you can say I'm beautiful, I can surely say that you're handsome!"

He pulled a face again. "But in your case it's true," he insisted. "When you say it to me… it just sounds funny."

"And you think it doesn't sound funny to me?" she shot back. "Being called 'beautiful'?"

"No," said Harry with a shrug. He got to his feet and offered her his hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Walking," he said.

"Where to?" she asked, taking his hand and allowing herself to be led away.

"Dunno," Harry said with a shrug. "I just… I like walking with you."

"Oh," Ginny replied, smiling. "Well. That's all right, then."

They walked in silence towards the castle, hand gently clasped in hand, and Ginny was amazed (and a little frightened, to be sure) at how… normal it felt. How un-strange it was to be walking like this, with Harry. "Harry," she asked as they re-entered the Hogwarts gates, "does any of this… this talking, what happened earlier in the common room, this," and here she held up their clasped hands, "does any of this seem odd to you?"

"No," said Harry, looking puzzled… but then realization crept across his face. "No," he repeated, "should it?"

"We've known each other forever," she said as other students began to file in from the grounds around them. She realized that as some passed, they received quizzical looks. Clearly news hadn't traveled THAT fast. "I've been Ron's little sister all this time, and…"

"You haven't just been Ron's little sister to me in a very long time, Gin," Harry quickly said, cutting her off. "But I know what you mean. This should, maybe, feel… weird. But…"

"… it doesn't," she finished for him.

"No," he agreed. "Not at all."

"All right," she said with a smile. "So long as I'm not going crazy."

"I never said THAT."

"Prat."

They continued to walk down the corridor, hand in hand, and now Ginny saw that passing students were openly pointing and whispering. "Bloody rude," she muttered, giving one pair of third year girls the evil eye as they scampered tittering away.

"What?" asked Harry.

"The people staring at us," Ginny said with a scowl. "It's as if they've never seen two people holding hands before."

"Oh," Harry said, craning his neck to watch the third years disappear around a corner. "I didn't notice. To be honest, Gin, it's not the first time people have been pointing and staring at me in the corridors. You get used to it. Hey, do you know where we are?"

Ginny looked around the corridor, the third years forgotten. "A hallway at school? Where?"

"Look," Harry said, and letting go of her hand he walked over to a tapestry, pulling it aside to reveal the secret passage in which he and Ron had caught she and Dean so many months ago.

She groaned. "Why in all the wizarding world are you showing that to me?" Ginny protested. "I'd rather forget that, actually."

"Sorry," Harry hastened to say, dropping the tapestry back in place. "It's just that…" he took a deep breath. "That's when I knew. I mean, when I realized. I mean... that's when I knew what I thought of you. FELT of you," he corrected. That hung in the air between them, and then he looked down at his feet, which were suddenly shuffling nervously on the ground. "I shouldn't have brought that up," he muttered.

Ginny lifted his chin up; she wasn't sure when her own feet had carried her to him. "It's all right," she said gently. "Because that's when I realized it, too."

Harry looked at her. "Really?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "When you and Ron came in… when you caught Dean and I… I was so embarrassed, so angry with myself, so… so worried of what you would think of me… I felt I had betrayed you, or us, or something."

"That's ridiculous!" protested Harry. "How could you have?"

"Of course it's ridiculous," Ginny agreed. "But it's how I felt. It's how I felt, how I FEEL about you."

Her hand was still on his chin. She could feel his breath on her fingertips. Her own breath was suddenly coming in shallow gasps. A large group of fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had just turned down the corridor. "I'm sorry you had to see Dean and I like that, Harry," she said gently. "But I want you to know, I never want to go behind that tapestry again, certainly not with any other boy, but not even with you."

"Oh?" asked Harry, and it amused her that he sounded disappointed. "Why not?'

"Because," she whispered, the approaching students now close enough that she could make out words of their conversation. "Because I don't want to hide this." And with a sense of quiet desperation, with a sudden realization that it had been far too long since the common room, she grasped hold of Harry's shirt with her free hand and pulled his lips to her, her other hand still resting gently on his chin. His arms wrapped around her waist, and just as she was about to lose herself completely to the kiss she could hear the passing group of Hogwarts students gasping and squealing at the sight of Harry Potter kissing his best friend's little sister in plain view in the middle of a school corridor.

_Ah, let 'em talk_, said the voice in the back of her head. _What do you care?_

She didn't, she found. She did not care at all.


	23. Chapter 22: Moments

"What?" asked Harry. He and Ginny had finally returned to the Quidditch after-party, hours after the party. If anyone, including Ginny, had wondered what their walk together would lead to, then one look at them now, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist and his wrapped just as tightly around her shoulder, would have been enough to assure even the most casual of observers that two more Hogwarts students had been taken 'off the market', as it were.

Now if only someone could solve the eternal mystery of what, exactly, the deal was with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"What is it?" Harry asked again, as neither of them had responded to his first inquiry. They were sitting stock still, across from one another at one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room, arms folded and jaws locked in stubbornness.

Ginny rolled her eyes. She was in an exceptionally good mood, she'd admit, but these two could test the patience of a stone. "Would you two answer... ?" she began, but Hermione cut her off.

"It would seem," she said angrily, still glaring at Ron, "that Ronald doesn't approve of his best friend absconding with his sister."

"Now hold on..." Ron began. Ginny felt her own temper begin to rise, but Hermione was not done and continued talking right over Ron.

"And I've been trying to EXPLAIN to him now for QUITE SOME TIME," she said, "that as long as HARRY and GINNY are HAPPY, nobody has ANY RIGHT to tell them they CAN'T be together, do they, RON?"

"I should say not," Ginny chimed in, her own face growing red as she pulled her arm free of Harry. "And furthermore, Ronald, it's one hell of a hypocritical stance for you to take, don't you think..."

"Hold it!" Ron said, his voice rising.

"Why should I?" asked Ginny hotly, but then she felt Harry's hand lightly touching her shoulder.

"Maybe we should let Ron speak," he said quietly. Ginny was about to shrug him off and ignore him...

… but she didn't. "All right," she said instead, he temper ebbing off. Slightly. "Speak, then."

"Look," said Ron, "I don't much like the idea of you dating... well, anyone, really. Never have. Comes with the job description, you know."

Ginny frowned. "You act like I'm six years old, Ron."

"Well... yeah," Ron agreed. "I do. But I know you're not, and I know you're... y'know, going to go out with blokes and... stuff like that. And if you have to go out with someone, well, hey..." he gestured to Harry. "Not a bad choice, right? You could do worse."

"Thanks, mate," said Harry wryly.

"So what's the problem?" Ginny asked, genuinely feeling some confusion now.

"The problem is," said Hermione, "Ron's worried about what sort of catastrophe might befall HIM should you two ever split up."

Ginny closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. Harry and she had just started being 'Harry and she' about five minutes ago... ALREADY this question was rearing its head?

"Look, forget it," Ron said, glaring at Hermione. "I shouldn't have brought it up, and I certainly didn't want to mention it to YOU TWO. What part of 'in confidence' do you have trouble with, anyway?" he asked Hermione, who looked away haughtily but whose cheeks had gone slightly red.

Ron turned back to Harry and Ginny. "But hey, if you two are happy," he muttered. He looked up at Harry, and the two of them sort of nodded and shrugged, and that seemed to be it. Ginny shook her head in simultaneous awe and disbelief. Boys. Honestly.

"But don't let me catch you doing anything," Ron warned as he stood up. "That's the bloody last thing I need to see. By the way... who are you telling about this?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it," admitted Harry.

"Everybody?" Ginny asked.

"I'd assume," he replied with a nod.

"Well, think about that," Ron said. "Because if you tell mum she'll be thrilled and hug you both to death. Then she'll spend the entire summer keeping you two apart. Protecting your innocence and all that rubbish. We'd best tell her she's too late to the game in your case, Gin."

"Very funny. Hold still. Where's my wand... ?"

"And better make sure the twins don't find out," Ron concluded.

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"Unless you want the whole Order to know," Ron said with a shrug. "Ginny'll end up under constant protection. 'Constant Vigilance'. Plus, they'll take the Mickey out of the both of you every chance they get." Ginny and Harry glanced to each other; they both knew Ron had a point.

"But I'm going to bed," Ron said with a yawn, turning and walking towards the stairs. "It's been a hell of a day." Right at the foot of the steps to the boy's dorm, he stopped and looked back at Ginny. "I just worry," he said, seeming genuinely sincere. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

Ginny smiled, touched. "Thanks, Ron," she said warmly. "But I promise you, I won't be."

"I was talking," Ron said with a grin, "to Harry." This time Ginny did pull her wand out, but by the time she had leveled it, he had disappeared up the steps.

"I'll get him tomorrow," Ginny muttered, shoving her wand away. She looked at Hermione. Now that Ron had disappeared and the disagreement between the two of them was ended, the girl was looking back and forth from Harry to Ginny, seemingly ready to explode into laughter or tears or song or all of the above.

"So what do you think?" Harry asked her tentatively.

It was all the incitement Hermione needed to jump up from her seat and pull the both of them into a bone-crushing hug. "Oh," she said, sniffling just a little bit, her eyes tearing up but not spilling, her grin contagious, "I'm just so happy for you. For the BOTH of you!"

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry managed to choke out. Ginny grinned and looked at him over Hermione's hair. He grinned back. Her heart swooped. She'd have to get used to that happening, she realized. Her heart swooped again.

Finally, Hermione released them. "It IS official, isn't it?" she asked them earnestly, eyes as wide as her smile. "You ARE boyfriend and girlfriend now, aren't you?"

Ginny grimaced. "Wow, Hermione, when you say it like that, it sounds so... so..."

"Lame," Harry finished, looking as if he had bitten into something extremely sour.

"But you ARE, aren't you?" Hermione persisted, sounding a bit anxious now.

Ginny smiled and looked to Harry. "I don't know. Are we?"

"Are we?" he asked back.

"I think we are."

"All right. We are, then," Harry said to Hermione, who immediately let out a cry of (presumably) joy and grabbed them both again into a bear hug. This time, however, when she let them go, she looked Ginny in the eye, then Harry, and said, "Just remember who told you so first." And with that, she was off and up the stairs to the girl's dorm.

"It does get a bit infuriating that she's always right, doesn't it?" Ginny said wearily.

Harry shrugged. "Honestly, I don't mind it so much. Particularly not this time."

"Oh, no?" Ginny asked with a grin (she had been grinning a lot today...), wrapping her arms around Harry again. But before she could bring her lips to his, she found herself caught up in a tremendous yawn.

"Merlin, it's been a long day, hasn't it?" Ginny asked.

"It has," Harry agreed. "Truthfully, you should probably get to bed."

"I should," Ginny said, nodding.

Four hours later, she did just that.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

It had a been a blissful first Sunday spent in each other's company, and they were both somewhat surprised that although they had spent the entire day doing nothing much more than laying out under the trees by the lake, neither had run out of things to say to the other. The lulls in their conversation had absolutely nothing to do with a lack of topics, that much was for certain.

"There goes Ron now," Ginny said, pointing as her brother and Hermione passed nearby, on their way back from Hagrid's. She and Harry were laying next to each other under the boughs of a particularly well-shaded willow tree of the non-whomping variety, and could watch the world pass without the world noticing them too readily in return and heading over to bother him.

"Wow," Harry said, watching as the pair headed towards the castle. "He's still bright purple. What did you do to him?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Ginny said with a semi-evil smirk. She lay back down on the grass and nestled closer to Harry. It was impossible, really, to get as close as she'd like, but she was determined to try. "Have you thought at all about what Ron said yesterday?" she asked.

"Which part?" asked Harry.

"The part about what might happen if we were to split up."

"I have," Harry replied.

"And?"

"And I decided it isn't worth much thought."

Ginny propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him. "Honestly?" she asked.

"Honestly," Harry said. "I already thought about that before I... I..."

"Snogged the life out of me in front of all of our schoolmates in the common room?"

"Yes, that," Harry said, blushing furiously (but it was a happy blush, judging by his smile.) "But yes, I thought about it before that. And I decided that... if this, you and I... if the cost of this is some sort of terrible break-up at some point... that's a price worth paying, it seems." He looked at her, concern furrowing his brow. "What do you think? Did you think about it, too?"

"I did," Ginny said, laying her head on his chest and joining her eyes with his. "And I agree with you."

"Really?"

"I couldn't have gone on much longer without... without something happening between us, Harry," she told him quietly. "It was becoming unbearable."

"I know what you mean," Harry said solemnly.

"And whatever the cost," she continued, her voice dropping into a low whisper, "this is where I want to be, where I HAVE to be, right now. Whatever happens in the future."

The talking stopped after that.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"What are you looking at?" demanded Ginny, her face turned away from where she and Harry were sharing a quick "have a nice day" kiss outside the Great Hall. It had been a fairly spontaneous gesture, and as it had been only two days since they had FIRST kissed, there were still a few passing students who seemed surprised at the sight.

One of them was Draco Malfoy. He had stopped in his tracks and stood glaring at them, a mixture of surprise and disgust intermingled across his gaunt, pale features. "Shove off, Malfoy," Harry glowered at him.

Malfoy just rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, and gave them one last once-over. "Figures," he spat viciously, and then spun on his heel and disappeared into the throng of students heading for class before Harry or Ginny could say anything else.

"The more I think about it, the more I think you should have gotten a medal instead of detention for attacking him," Ginny said, frowning in Draco's wake.

"Yeah, well, maybe someday," said Harry sourly, still glaring after him.

Ginny looked up at him. "Well, don't let him ruin your mood," she said, forcing herself to brighten up as well. "And you were so cheerful a moment ago. Chipper up, won't you?"

Harry grinned at her. "That seems easier these days, doesn't it?" he asked.

"Absolutely," Ginny agreed, leaning in for one (or two or three) last quick pecks. "But now I'm going to be late for class."

"I wouldn't worry," Harry called after her as she hurried off. "You only have Potions. Slughorn won't mind!"

Ginny smiled to herself as she hurried through a secret passage. No, he surely wouldn't. Perhaps she'd tell finally tell him what she had smelled in Amortentia, just to assure she'd stay on his good side...

But perhaps she wouldn't.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

McGonagall was droning on and on about… something-or-other. Ginny had stopped listening, honestly, about twenty minutes ago, and had instead been happily reliving in her mind a very pleasant moment she and Harry had shared the previous evening out on the grounds.

But then she had the sudden and very distinct feeling that she was being watched.

Puzzled, she glanced to her left, and sure enough there was Luna, peering at her intently. "What is it?" Ginny hissed to her, one eye on Professor McGonagall.

"I just wanted to remind you," Luna whispered back, "that I told you so." Luna then returned to her notes, simple as you please, as if she had never turned to Ginny at all.

Ginny just stared at Luna for a moment. First Hermione, then Luna? Merlin, had everyone seen what she was feeling all along? She shook her head. "Braggart," she said under her breath.

Though Luna didn't look at her, the blonde girl's self-satisfied smile grew even wider. Ginny returned to her own notes, and to her daydream. There wasn't much she could say, really; after all, Luna Lovegood had every right to gloat. And Ginny was left with the comforting thought that she could now, in all honesty, go back to Hermione and tell her that, no, she HADN'T said it first.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"But is he a good kisser?" Natalie asked. "That's the important thing!"

"Natalie, please!" Demelza admonished. "That's none of our business!"

"It's entirely our business," Natalie muttered, but Demelza had moved on.

"So you're happy, then?" she asked, all dewey-eyed and grinning. "I mean, really, REALLY happy?"

Ginny nodded, her own grin threatening to outshine Demelza's. "I am truly, thoroughly happy. I have to be honest, it's almost frightening just HOW happy I am."

Demelza sighed. "You're going to marry him," she said, not as a question but as a statement. Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but then images came rushing into her mind: Harry and she dating for months, years, the proposal, the wedding plans, the wedding day, the wedding NIGHT (here she blushed fiercely), careers, kids, life together through their old age… it was overwhelming, and she didn't know quite how to respond.

So instead she just shrugged at Demelza, and said to Natalie, "And for the record, he's a SPECTACULAR kisser."

Demelza squealed in delight. Natalie tried to scowl but it came out as a strangled half-grin. "Well, of course he is," she grumbled. "He's Harry bloody Potter."

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"So we tell mum and dad."

"I think we have to," Harry said with a shrug. "I wouldn't feel right lying about it to your parents."

"All right," Ginny said, nodding. "You're right, of course."

"When?" asked Hermione, reaching over the chessboard to move one of her remaining pawns against Ron's queen.

"In person," Ginny said. "End of term. Back at The Burrow."

"You want to wait that long?" Harry asked.

"I'm not going to Owl them, and I'm not going to beg for a Floo for this," Ginny said. "End of term is coming up soon enough. That'll do."

"Might want to make sure Fred and George keep their mouths shut, then. As I told you," Ron said as he easily countered Hermione's move and put her king into checkmate. Disgusted, Hermione got up in a huff and crossed the room to a couch, ensconcing herself in a textbook, the pages of which she angrily flipped every few seconds.

"You really think they'll find out?" Harry asked as Ron sat with them. Ron gave him a look. "Right," Harry said. "We warn Fred and George not to say anything."

"How?" Ginny asked. Harry shrugged; they'd figure it out. "By the way," Ginny said to Ron, pointing across the room to Hermione, "once in awhile, you might want to let her win. Just a suggestion."

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

Ginny swooped up to the goal hoops, her face red from exertion, her chest rising and falling with each panting breath. It was a little warmer than was proper for Quidditch, really, but it would do.

"Again?" Harry asked, flipping the Quaffle to her as she slowed in front of him.

"Harry, we've been at it for two hours," she said, steadying her shaking arms on her broom handle.

"You want to go pro or not?" Harry asked with a smile. "C'mon, I never knew you to say 'no' to Quidditch."

Ginny shook her head, but could not keep from smiling under his gaze. And blushing. Merlin, what this boy did to her… "The sun's almost down," she said. "And you don't have to do this, you know."

"I'm only a responsible Quidditch Captain making sure my star Chaser gets her extra work in," Harry said in a mock serious tone. "Unless you'd rather work with Ron. He's a better Keeper than I, anyway."

"Maybe I should," Ginny teased. "Ron doesn't get as easily distracted as you when I fly too close."

"I sure hope he doesn't," Harry muttered. It was now his turn to blush. "All right, just a few more runs, and then we'll call it a night."

"Right," Ginny said. "And then I've an idea for a different game we can play."

She chuckled to herself as she zipped away, Quaffle in hand. If she thought he'd been blushing before…

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

Ginny sat up straight and looked around her in amazement; she had just realized something. "Is this the first time we've all been together this year?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna looked at each other. "I don't think so…" Neville began.

"No," said Ginny, "I mean together. Just the six of us."

"It is," Luna said definitively, and then lay back down in the grass. The others looked at each other, realizing a bit more slowly what Luna had seemingly already figured out but not shared.

"How about that?" Ron wondered aloud. The six of them, connected as they were by their experiences in the Department of Mysteries and the days that followed… had they all spent the school year so distracted that they had forgotten?

Well, Ginny knew she'd been distracted. She wondered if she should offer an apology… but then looked around at the other five, and realized there was no need. They were beyond such things. And no one had forgotten.

"Do you need anything from us, Harry?" Neville asked quietly. "Any help?" Luna sat back up, expectantly.

Ginny thought she saw Ron and Hermione share a hesitant glance, but Harry looked straight at Neville. "Not yet, Nev," he said firmly. "But if I do, and if Dumbledore asks, I know I can count on you. And you too, Luna."

"Naturally," Luna said with a smile. "That's what friends are for. Oooo, I think I'll paint that." She lay back down in the grass without offering any other explanation as to what she was talking about… but they were all used to that by now, and even appreciated it.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"There's two more," said Ginny, watching a pair of Hufflepuffs muttering and gawking as they walked past on the other side of the tables.

"Honestly, Ginny," Harry said, his mouth full of buttered toast. "You can't let it bother you so much." He swallowed, and continued. "People are going to stare. After all," he added with a smirk, "you ARE dating 'The Chosen One'."

Without looking up from her copy of 'The Daily Prophet', Hermione whacked Harry on the arm with a textbook, much to Ron's guffawing delight. "Ow!" Harry said, rubbing his arm. "Kidding, Hermione! Kidding!"

"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said.

"Not at all," said her older friend with a smile, continuing to read.

"Anyway," Ginny went on, "I don't care if I'm dating Godric Gryffindor, nobody has the right to gawk at us everywhere we go!"

"You mean like Zabini's doing?" Ron asked. Ginny and Harry turned to look at the Slytherin table, where they caught Blaise Zabini scowling at them before he turned away.

"Ugh," said Ginny. "What is he looking at?"

"I almost forgot!" Harry said, his eyes wide. "He thinks you're pretty!"

"I think he's a troll," Ginny shot back, turning her head 'round to give him another dirty look.

"Where'd you hear that?" Ron demanded of Harry.

"Overhead it when I snuck into their carriage on the Express at the start of the year," explained Harry.

"Is that where you went with the cloak?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "I wanted to see what Malfoy was up to. Didn't do me much good, did it?"

"Nah, it's all right," said Ron. "If you hadn't been obsessed with Malfoy, than you probably wouldn't have almost killed him in the bathroom, and you'd've been able to play Quidditch, and we would have most likely lost."

"It's true," Ginny agreed solemnly.

"Thanks loads, you two," Harry said with a friendly scowl.

A few minutes later they were all up and off to class. Before parting ways just outside of the Great Hall, Harry pulled Ginny aside. "So," he asked, "do you think I'M a troll?"

"That depends," Ginny said, mock-furrowing her brow. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Of course!" said Harry enthusiastically. "I think you're beautiful!"

"All right," she said. "Then no, you are certainly not a troll. And even if you were," she added, "I wouldn't care at all." And with that, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurried off to class.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"So what is it you and Dumbledore are meeting about?" Ginny asked him once the others had gone.

Harry looked away, his mouth drawn in a tight line. "I… I can't tell you."

Ginny nodded slowly. "But you can tell Ron and Hermione." He did not answer. "Because as I approached, don't think I didn't see the three of you hush up right and proper before I could overhear you." Harry still did not reply, but looked sullenly down at his feet. Ginny knew she shouldn't go on this way, but she had spent all last night in the library, again, and she was spending her lunch out here with Harry on the grounds, and she was starving, and sometimes… well, sometimes a girl just wasn't in the mood to stop pushing the wrong buttons. "I would have thought, Harry, that maybe you'd open up a bit more to me now, but whatever it is you and Dumbledore are meeting about I guess is something I can't know about, but Ron and Hermione can."

"Dumbledore said I could tell them," Harry explained, rather lamely in her opinion. "He said I should. But I gave him my word I wouldn't tell anyone else, Ginny. I'm sorry."

"Right," Ginny humphed. Her stomach growled. This did not make her feel any less agitated. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. That's the way it's always been. Ron and Hermione know everything, and I know nothing. Why should I think anything has changed?"

"But it isn't the way it's always been, not anymore," Harry insisted. "Things have changed. It's different this time."

"HA!" Ginny scoffed. "How is it different this time?"

"Because this time I want to tell you," Harry said, almost pleading, and her heart almost instantly melted, and if she wasn't in such a mood she was sure it would have. "I very badly want to tell you, everything. But… I also don't."

"That makes no sense, Harry."

"I know," Harry admitted, and he seemed to be desperately tinkering with his words, trying to find the combination that would keep her from getting angrier. "It's a little selfish of me," he admitted, "and… I don't want to tell you what Dumbledore and I are meeting about because if I did you would want to talk about those things. And being with you… it's like I can forget about all of those things for a little while."

"So that's why you're with me?" Ginny said. "Because you can concentrate on other things when you're with me?"

"No!" Harry said quickly. "I'm with you because… because I like being with you. In fact, I like it so much, that everything else kind of… falls away. Which is good. Everything else has never been real keen for me. You know?"

Ginny did not nod, did not look at him, did not say a word. It was an old insecurity, she knew, the feeling that Harry, Ron, and Hermione wanted nothing to do with her. Even now, as her common sense fought its way through her exhaustion and her hunger, she knew she was being unnecessarily harsh with him.

But still… he wouldn't tell her what he would tell his two friends. And it bothered her.

"I have class," she muttered, getting up.

"I know," said Harry, and he sounded perfectly miserable, which strangely enough did nothing to make her feel better. With nothing else to say, she turned and walked away.

Halfway to the castle she stopped. What was she doing? Was she really going to do this? Was she going to be a child about this? Was she going to cause trouble about… what was this about, anyway?

Nothing, that's what. She was just picking a fight because she was in a bad mood, and she knew it. But this wasn't the time and the place or the topic or… she had been a child, hadn't she? And she wasn't going to be a child. Not about this. This was too important.

Turning on her heel, she marched right back to Harry, who looked up in gloomy surprise as she approached. "I thought you had class?" he asked.

"I'm not mad at you," Ginny said firmly.

"But…"

"I was, but I'm not," she continued, taking a seat next to him. "And I'm sorry for flying off the handle. Truthfully, Harry, I expect there'll be times I get mad at you and you'll deserve it, but this time wasn't one of them."

"I'm glad to hear it," Harry said.

"And I'd rather sit with you here now and make you believe me than go to a class for a subject I could care less about," Ginny continued. "Just promise me something."

Harry nodded fervently. "Anything. What?"

Ginny took a deep breath, and looked him straight in the eye. "When this is all over, and you've done whatever it is that you have to do, promise me that you'll tell me everything. Because it will all be over someday, you know. And you'll still be here, and so will I. And then you can tell me everything you haven't told me." He nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers, but did not answer. "Do you promise?" she asked insistently.

"I promise," he replied.

"Good," she said with a small, quiet smile. "Now let's stop talking, shall we?"

And they did.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"What took you so long?" Ginny asked as Harry sat down next to her at the Gryffindor table. "I was honestly starting to get worried. I was about to head down to the dungeon."

"Snape," Harry grumbled. "He's keeping me in detention longer and longer. It's as if he knows I'm in a hurry to…" here he trailed off.

"To what?" Ginny asked, a smile creeping onto her face.

"To get to you," Harry muttered embarrassedly.

"Well," said Ginny, now full-fledged grinning from ear-to-ear, "I'm sure if you had just explained that to him nicely, he would have excused you early from detention."

"Sure," Harry said derisively, although some of the temper was now draining from his demeanor. "Snape loves nothing more than to see me happy. Truth told, ever since we've started dating, I think he's actually being worse to me than usual."

"You know," Ginny said thoughtfully, "you may have a point."

"What makes you say that?" asked Harry.

"He's never liked me," Ginny said with a shrug. "I mean, he's never been as cruel to me as he is to you, but he's certainly not a fan of mine. I know, I'm a Weasley, I'm in Gryffindor, it stands to reason. But since we've started dating…" she shook her head. "He looks for every chance he can to correct me in class, and he's started taking points from me as if it were going out of style."

"Oh, good," Harry said with a frown, "give me a reason to like him even less."

"Is that possible?" Ginny asked.

"I wouldn't have thought," Harry acquiesced, "but here we are."

"Forget about him," Ginny said, getting up and drawing Harry to his feet after her. "We have bigger plans."

"We do?" Harry asked. "What's that?"

Ginny pulled him close to her and whispered her plans for the afternoon into his ear. His eyes widened. "Oh," he said, stammering slightly. "We'd better get to it, then." Without another word, he turned and pulled her out of the hall, towards the privacy of the grounds, and any leftover thought of Severus Snape's churlish behavior towards the two of them soon escaped Ginny's mind thoroughly and utterly.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"But you wouldn't BE half as good as you are in Potions without the Half-Blood Prince!" Hermione said, her voice rising. "So of course you HAVE to go back and get the book, don't you?"

"Bloody right he does, Hermione," said Ron. "How else am I going to pass Potions? And keep it down, won't you? You want the whole common room to hear you?"

"Maybe I do," Hermione said, her arms folded but in a quieter tone. "I'm not the one pretending to be a Potions expert, after all."

"You know, Hermione," Ginny said thoughtfully from where her head lay in Harry's lap. "Perhaps Harry isn't pretending."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione scoffed.

"Perhaps Harry IS the Half-Blood Prince," Ginny said. "After all, he IS a, pardon the expression, 'half-blood' wizard. His mum's parents weren't wizards, were they, Harry?"

"No, they weren't," Harry confirmed.

"So maybe," Ginny continued, "Harry really IS this 'Half-Blood Prince', and he just made up this whole other person, Hermione, because he knew you couldn't handle somebody being so much better than you in yet ANOTHER subject."

"ANOTHER subject?" Hermione sniffed.

Ginny craned her neck to be able to see Hermione where she was sitting in her armchair, arms crossed, glaring at Ginny with daggers in her eyes. Ginny grinned. "Yes, ANOTHER subject. He already annihilates you in 'Defense Against the Dark Arts', doesn't he?"

"That's true," said Ron.

"You stay out of it!" Hermione snapped at him, then turned back to Ginny. "And how do you suppose we explain Harry's abysmal performance in the subject up until this year?"

"Well," said Ginny, reaching back into her memory for something Seamus had once said, "I reckon he hated Snape so much that he was failing on purpose, just to make Snape look like a terrible teacher."

"That IS a good excuse for that," Harry muttered in her ear. She pinched him, unseen to the others; he hid the yelp with a laugh.

"I refuse," Hermione said with a haughty air, opening up a textbook as she did, "to give any credence whatsoever to such a preposterous discussion."

"Makes sense to me," said Ron with a shrug.

"And if something making sense to you is all the basis of proof we need in this world, Ronald, then society as we know it is going to come crashing in upon itself in complete totality," Hermione snapped at him.

Ron looked at Harry. "I can't tell if that was an insult or not. What say you, your highness?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "She lost me."

"Make that sound like a royal proclamation," Ginny reminded him, enjoying Hermione's scowl more and more as it grew and grew. "Something like, 'I DECLARE THE SCULLERY MAID HAS SPOKEN OVER MY HEAD.' You are, after all, a prince."

Hermione stood up, in order, apparently, to do Harry's pronouncing for him. "I am going to the library," she told them all. "And I am not leaving until I have complete and utter proof of this 'Prince's' identity. And it will NOT be Harry!" With that, she stormed out through the portrait hole.

Ron looked over at Harry and Ginny. "Fun while it lasted," he said, reopening the Quidditch magazine he was reading instead of the scrolls he'd been assigned for homework.

Ginny turned herself over and crawled up Harry's body until her lips could reach his. "Well," she said quietly, "you're MY 'Half-Blood Prince', anyway."

"So long as it's you," Harry said with a grin just before Ginny's lips covered his.

"Do I need to see this? Honestly," Ron complained from worlds away.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked in a concerned voice.

Ginny nodded. "I'm sure," she replied, her jaw set. "Go ahead."

Harry hesitated, but turned to the sink, opened his mouth, and although what came out sounded like little more than a quiet hissing, Ginny knew that he was speaking in Parselmouth, and that the noise he was making had sounded to her, once upon a time and as if in a nightmare, as plain as any words any parent or teacher or friend had ever spoken to her. She could not remember what any of it meant now, and for that she was grateful.

For a moment nothing happened… but then the tap of the sink began to glow bright white and spin around, slowly at first and then faster, as if a latch were unscrewing itself. The sink itself then shuddered once and began to sink away into the floor, revealing behind it a ghostly familiar open pipe, angled downwards into the darkness and coated in dirt and grease and slime.

She and Harry stared together into the void for a minute. Finally, Harry turned to her. "Ready?" he asked quietly.

Ginny stared a few seconds longer, and then shook her head. "No," she said simply.

"Okay," Harry said hurriedly. "I understand. I'll close it."

"No, you don't understand," Ginny said, looking to him and resting her hand on his arm. She had to explain, had to take the panic out of his face. "I don't want to go down there because… well, look at it. It's filthy. And how would we get out? Unless you have a phoenix with you."

Harry looked confused; clearly this wasn't the reaction he was expecting from her. "I also don't want to go," she explained to him, calmly but firmly, "because I look at that hole and I realize… I don't have to." She shook her head. She had not had a nightmare about the Chamber of Secrets in months; really, she hadn't thought of it at all, not since her encounter with Dumbledore and Fawkes up in the Headmaster's office. "I don't have those nightmares anymore, Harry," she said quietly, a smile and tear of relief intermingling upon her face. "I beat those demons, I think, without ever needing to set foot in the Chamber of Secrets again. This just confirms what I already knew."

"You beat those demons down in the Chamber of Secrets your first year," Harry said quietly. "You beat them for all of those months you had that diary. You withstood Voldemort for a whole year, Ginny." Harry shook his head. "I fought him for five minutes after he killed Cedric, and if it had gone one minute longer he would have beaten me." Harry took a deep breath at the memory, and continued. "But you fought him for a whole year. When I think about it… that strength amazes me." He shook his head again. "It really… it really…" He trailed off, and just shrugged.

"You fought him when he was at full power, Harry," Ginny said. "I fought a shadow of him, a memory. It was just an enchanted diary, no more."

"Just a diary?" Harry blurted out. "That diary…" but then he stopped. He seemed to catch himself from saying something. He cast his eyes away, and mumbled, "That diary held… it held some very… powerful magic along with memories and shadows."

A silence hung between them. To fill it, Harry turned back to the Chamber entrance and, hissing more Parselmouth towards it, closed it. When it had shut completely and the sink had returned to its place, Ginny asked, "What about the diary?"

"Nothing about it," Harry said quickly, still looking away. "It's just… I think it was probably a more powerful piece of magic then you think it was. And it's impressive, really impressive, that you were able to fight back against it as long as you did."

That wasn't the answer. Ginny had heard and told enough little white lies in her day to recognize a bad one. But now wasn't the time to push Harry on this. Not yet. Soon. But not yet.

Instead, she reached out and took his hand. He looked at her and she smiled; he smiled back and they left the bathroom, hands clasped tightly. "So if you knew that you didn't want to go down there?" Harry asked as they strolled leisurely away from Moaning Myrtle's haunt, "why did you ask me to open it?"

"Just to make sure," Ginny replied. "I figured, as long as we're dating, and as long as you're making it clear you'll do anything I ask you to do, within reason…"

"Oh, will I?" Harry said with a half-grin.

"Absolutely," Ginny said with a nod. "And I don't feel the slightest bit guilty for it."

"You don't?" Harry asked. "Why not?"

"Because," Ginny said with forced casualness, "it's becoming quite clear to me that I will do just about anything you ask me to do, within reason."

They walked in silence a few moments more. "Oh," Harry finally said.

"Precisely," said Ginny with a nod.

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"Right," Ginny said, her head in the fireplace. "Harry and I are dating, and you aren't to tell mum and dad or anyone else, clear?"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" said George as Fred drew the curtains in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes with a flick of his wand. It was after hours, but people could certainly see in, and he clearly didn't want questions about how the head of a Hogwarts student had managed to appear in their fireplace.

"Wait for what?" Ginny asked. "I don't have much time here, you know."

"You and Harry are dating?" George asked.

"Are you deaf? Yes, we are."

"Honest-to-goodness dating?" he asked as Fred knelt alongside him.

"Yes!" Ginny said irritably.

"Pay up," Fred said with a grin to his twin. George reluctantly pulled a Galleon out of his pocket and slapped it in George's hand.

"You two were betting on Harry and I?" Ginny said incredulously.

"Yeah, and I thought it was a sure thing," grumbled George.

"I had a hunch," Fred said with a shrug as he polished the galleon with his sleeve.

"I thought the pool was on Ron and Hermione!"

"That's the one YOU'RE in, Ginny," Fred explained. "This was a side bet just between us."

"As he said, he had a hunch," George added grumpily.

"Whatever," Ginny said, realizing she was wasting time. "As I said, you're not to tell anyone, ever, and I mean it."

"Ginny, you wound us!" said Fred.

"And if you don't want us to say anything, why did you tell us?" George asked.

"Because you two have big ears and bigger mouths," Ginny explained sharply. "We assumed you'd hear it somewhere, so we thought it best to head you off at the pass, as it were."

"And how, might I ask, are you going to keep our mouths shut?"

"Because if you tell anyone," Ginny said sweetly, "I'll be sure to tell mum and dad how you two got the funds to open this place."

Fred and George both paled. "Blimey!" said Fred. "Harry told you that?"

"You must really have him wrapped up tight," George muttered.

"Well, the feeling's mutual," Ginny said, reflexively looking over her shoulder. She couldn't see anything but she was starting to feel she had spent far too much time there. "And next I see you, we're going to have words about a certain map you two gave to Harry instead of to your deprived little sister."

"Well, that's it," George said aside to Fred. "No more telling Harry anything."

"All right, I have to go. Love you both. Try not to blow the place up," Ginny said as she started to pull her head back.

"Wait!" George cried. Ginny stopped. "Quick, tell me... who made the first move?"

"What? None of your..."

"Ginny!" George exclaimed. "Who made the first move, you or Harry?"

"Well," Ginny said, puzzling. "It was sort of at the same time, actually... but if I had to put a name on it..." she shrugged. "I suppose it was me."

"Ha!" George said, and held his hand out to Fred, who begrudgingly gave the galleon he had just won back to his brother.

Ginny shook her head. "You two are all sorts of unbelievable." And with that, she withdrew her head from the fireplace at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and back into Professor McGonagall's office. She stood up, dusting the soot off of her clothes. "Are we still clear?" she asked.

Harry was standing by the closed office door, the Marauder's Map in hand. "All clear," he reported. "Filch is nowhere to be found. We should still use the cloak, though."

"Who are you, Hermione? We'll be fine."

"I'm on term long detention already, Gin, and this was pretty risky."

"It would have been even riskier not to lock those two down," Ginny said, crossing the room to him as he folded the map up. She picked the Invisibility Cloak off of McGonagall's desk and handed it to Harry. "Consider their lips sealed."

"Mischief Managed," Harry said as he cleared the map. "You didn't mention the map to them, did you?"

"Of course I did," Ginny retorted as Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them. "And I shall do so for as long as I live. The nerve of them, giving that to you instead of me."

"If it makes you feel any better" Harry said as they snuck together out the office door and he closed it gently behind them, "the map has been really useful to me over the years. It's gotten me, Ron, and Hermione out of some tight spots."

"It does not make me feel any better," she said as they hurried down the hall to a point where they could safely remove the cloak, "and I'm absolutely certain this cloak is far more useful than that map."

"Not that I disagree," said Harry as he checked around a corner, "but how do you s'pose?"

Ginny took hold of his arm. He jumped in surprise, but she was already leading him backwards into a darkened and out-of-the-way alcove. "Here," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck when they were safely moved out of the way, still obscured under the cloak. "I'll show you."

_**HPGWHPGWHPGWHPGW**_

"So what is it you and Dumbledore are meeting about?"

She asked it out of habit; she couldn't help herself. It was all right, though. She no longer expected an answer, Harry knew she no longer expected an answer, and it had become more of a running joke between them than anything.

Of course, if he ever wanted to GIVE her an answer...

But she expected he would, as he had every day for the past few days, simply smile and say that he was very sorry he couldn't tell her but that he someday would, and that would be that.

Today, however, his answer was different.

"I've decided," he declared, "that I'm not going to think about it at all today."

"That's likely," Ginny scoffed.

"No," Harry insisted, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed as he lay in the grass, "I mean it. I'm not going to think about it one bit."

"You can't help yourself," Ginny laughed. "I know you, and you can't help yourself."

"Maybe," Harry said with a shrug.

"No 'maybe' about it," Ginny said with a grin, rolling over onto her stomach to look Harry in the upside-down eye. "Seriously though, Harry... how DO you ever stop thinking about these things?"

"It's never been easy, before," Harry said. "To be completely honest."

"Before when?" Ginny asked.

"Before you," Harry said, still gazing up into the sky but now with a ferocious blush crawling up his cheeks. "Now I just… I just think of you."

Ginny's grin grew wider. "I do believe, Mr. Potter," she said, crawling around to his side to lie next to him, "that you have earned yourself a kiss that you shall never, ever forget."

And he wouldn't.


	24. Chapter 23: Chaos

It was late again as Ginny trudged back from the library, another evening spent among the other fifth years revising for her O.W.L.s. It was perhaps the most tedious thing she had ever done, and she had wondered more than once if famous professional Quidditch players really NEEDED strong O.W.L. scores. She had to remind herself repeatedly that it would all be over soon, and that at the very least she could look forward to spending the remainder of the evening in the common room with Harry.

She dragged herself up to the portrait hold, mumbled "Quid agis" to the Fat Lady and clambered inside. Looking around she saw that Harry was nowhere to be found; she did, however, see Ron and Hermione huddled together in a corner. As she approached them Hermione slipped something small and gold into her pocket that. "And what are you two up to?" she asked warily as she approached, knowing that they'd simply change the topic and pretend they had never been discussing things that she wasn't supposed to know.

But they didn't. "Leave your books," Ron muttered, "and let's go."

"What?" Ginny asked, completely confused, but Ron was already heading towards the portrait hole.

"Come ON, Ginny!" Hermione hissed, following quickly after Ron.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, but the other two had already left the common room and she hurried after them, feeling her pocket to make sure she had her wand. As she did so, she felt her hand brush against something warm. What in the world… ?

She fished the enchanted D.A. Galleon out of her pocket. It was something she still carried out of habit, and while it hadn't heated up in over a year it was activated now, and she realized that she had seen Hermione putting her own Galleon away after sending a message. "Entrance Hall," it read along the edge where the serial number was usually found. "Now!"

"What is this?" she hissed to Ron and Hermione as the Fat Lady closed behind them, holding up the Galleon. "What's going on? Where's Harry?"

"With Dumbledore," Ron said. "Off on an errand."

"To get what?" Ginny quickly asked.

"None of your business," came Hermione's sharp reply. "But Harry thinks Malfoy's up to something in the Room of Requirement."

"So let's go!" Ginny said, setting off into a jog immediately.

"Wait!"

The three of them turned as a fourth voice called out to them from the portrait hole. Neville was closing the portrait, waving his own Galleon in the air. Clearly he carried it with him everywhere as well. "What is it?" he asked.

"We'll explain when we get there," Ron said. "C'mon!"

They hurried quickly and quietly to the Entrance Hall, careful to avoid Peeves and Filch. When they arrived they were greeted only by Luna, her own Galleon hanging from a slender golden chain around her neck. "Oh, good!" Luna said warmly. "I thought I'd be here by myself!"

"Of course we were coming, Luna!" Hermione said. "Who else could have sent the message?"

"Do you really want her to get into that now?" Ginny asked with a smirk. Luna simply smiled.

"C'mon, why did you call us?" Neville asked, his face slightly flushed, whether from fear or excitement or both.

Instead of answering, Ron pulled out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited, touching the tip of his want to the map. Instantly, the multi-layered and ever-in-motion map of Hogwart's appeared. Neville and Luna peered intently at it.

"Is that the map, then?" Neville asked, eyes wide. Harry had used it in their presence before outside of D.A. meetings, Ginny knew, but always off in a corner, and always away from curious looks. She hadn't gotten a good look at it until she and Harry had started dating, and now Neville and Luna were getting their first real looks as well.

"Yeah," said Ron. "It shows the whole school, and the little dots show everyone in the castle. See the names?"

"Wow," said Neville breathlessly. Though Ginny had seen it recently and great length, she glanced surreptitiously at it anyway, scanning the map quickly for any sign of the words "Harry Potter", but no such luck. She forced back the sudden feeling of dread that bubbled up from her stomach to focus on the task at hand.

"Very curious," Luna mused. "Makes you wonder, are we real looking at the map, or are the dots on the map real looking at us?"

"No, it doesn't make you wonder that," Hermione said firmly.

"No Malfoy," Ron said, glancing to Hermione. "He must be in the Room of Requirement, just as Harry said."

"Why is Malfoy in the Room of Requirement?" Neville asked.

"We don't know," Hermione said, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"Well, he's clearly up to something, isn't he?" Ginny pointed out. "Why else would he try to cast an Unforgivable against Harry in the boy's room?"

"I know," Hermione said, still gnawing away, clearly thinking hard, "but…"

"We don't have a choice!" Neville said anxiously. "Harry must know something we don't, right?"

"Oh, Neville," Luna said sympathetically. "You know he tells Ron and Hermione everything, doesn't he?"

"He does!" Hermione said quickly. "Which is why it doesn't make sense that…"

"Except, of course," Luna added, not really listening to Hermione, "for the things he doesn't tell them."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other; while they were certain they knew everything that was going on, Ginny knew there was no way they could be COMPLETELY certain of that, not given Harry's history with secrets. And, truth told, Harry had been spending far less time with them and far more time with her these past few weeks. She had to wonder if that was playing into their uncertainty. "He absolutely believes Malfoy is up to something," she said urgently, trying to assure them. "He doesn't know what, but he believes it with everything he has. We have to trust him!"

"Also, we're already here," added Luna. "What else are we going to do?"

"Filch might be along soon," Neville warned them, looking around.

"All right," Hermione decided. "We go. But we'll have to split up. Harry wants us to keep an eye for Malfoy outside the Room of Requirement, and to keep an eye out for Snape down near his office."

"He doesn't trust Snape either; surprise of the year," said Ron.

"Ron, you take Neville and Ginny and head up to the Room of Requirement. Luna and I will go down to the dungeons." Hermione's pairings made sense; Malfoy was far more likely to strike out at students than was Snape, so sending the greater numbers in that direction worked, and Hermione and Luna were far less likely to lose their cool and attack a professor than she, Ron, or Neville.

"Right," said Ron. "If anything happens, use the coins. One more thing." Ron pulled from his pocket a crumpled up ball of socks.

"Er… thanks, Ron, but I'm already wearing a pair," Ginny said. But Ron wasn't listening to her, and he rolled open the socks to take out a small glass bottle filled with a bright golden liquid.

"Is that… ?" asked Neville.

"Essence of Faddlecork," Luna said knowingly. "Causes flights of fancy. Very useful under the right circumstances."

"It's Felix Felicis," Hermione said sharply. "Liquid luck."

"Harry won it from Slughorn first Potions class of the year," Ginny explained to Luna.

"Blimey, does he tell you everything?" Ron asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"Not everything," Ginny said, shrugging. "But he did explain that Dean didn't help me through the portrait that night." Hermione and Ron looked at each other in alarm; it was becoming clear to them just how much Ginny was starting to become privy to. She couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, anyway," Ron said, "Harry wanted us to split the rest of this up, give us some luck tonight."

"There's not much left," said Neville, peering at the bottle.

"We'll have to make it last, then," said Ron, pulling the cork and starting to raise the bottle.

"Right," Neville agreed. "Ladies first?"

"Uh… yeah," said Ron, quickly shifting gears, moving the bottle from his own lips and passing it to a glaring Hermione. She took a sip and passed the bottle to Luna, who did the same, passing it on to Ginny. She took a sip and a flash of warmth ran through her, and some of the uncertainty that was clouding her thoughts on their proposed actions lifted, her confidence getting a boost at the same time. It was quite a remarkable feeling, really, and she had to resist the urge to down the rest of the potion in the bottle, so she quickly passed it, with just a few drops left, to Neville.

Neville took the bottle and handed it to Ron. "I'll go last."

"C'mon, Nev…" Ron began.

"We're wasting time, Ron!" Neville insisted. "Just drink!"

Reluctantly, Ron took the bottle and drank, and then handed it back to Neville, who took the last infinitesimal sip. "Ready?" he asked, handing the bottle back to Ron.

"Right," said Hermione. "Luna and I to the dungeons, Neville and Ginny with Ron. Good luck, everyone!"

So the party split up, Hermione and Luna headed into the castle's depths, and Ginny hurrying up to the seventh floor with Ron and Neville. They quickly ascended using secret passages whenever possible, keeping their eyes peeled for Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves, but they managed to make it to the seventh floor corridor without incident. The three of them peered around a corner at the seemingly empty wall across from the tapestry of the dancing trolls. "Seems quiet," Neville commented.

"Doesn't it always?" Ginny asked.

The three of them crept down the hall until they stood in front of the "door" for the Room of Requirement, feeling only slightly foolish as by all appearances there was nobody anywhere nearby for them to be sneaking past. "Do you really think he's in there?" Neville asked, looking around in circles as if he expected Malfoy to pop out of a nearby portrait.

"Dunno," said Ron with a shrug. "But he's not on the map, so he's either in there or out of the school."

"Maybe we could open it?" suggested Ginny, and for the next several minutes they attempted just that, taking turns walking back and forth in front of the empty wall and willing the appropriate door to appear… but to no avail.

"What do we do now?" Neville asked, looking back and forth from Ginny to Ron.

The two siblings looked at each other and shrugged. "We wait," said Ginny.

They took turns, one standing in front of the door as the other two patrolled up and down the corridor, but eventually that began to seem foolish again as their surroundings were as still as one would expect a hall in an old castle to be late at night. Eventually they all ended up around the entrance to the Room again, Ginny leaning against the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy while Ron and Neville stood to either side of her. Their conversation was minimal, and they had been waiting with nothing to show for it for a good hour now. Ginny closed her eyes and drew in a deep sigh, exhaling slowly, trying to have faith that Harry knew what he was talking about, but when she opened her eyes the corridor looked exactly as it had when she closed them, except for Malfoy stepping out of the wall opposite her, staring at her in alarm and clutching in his hand an old mummified arm.

"Wha - ?" she managed as she stumbled to her feet, fumbling for her wand. Next to her Ron and Neville started as she had; they had all been waiting so long that they had fallen into inattentiveness. The all hurried to bring their wands to bear, but before they could Malfoy had raised his free hand high in the air and thrown something on the ground.

There was a sudden "_Whooosh!"_ that enveloped them, blowing past them and brushing back Ginny's hair. She opened her eyes… but then realized that her eyes were already open and she couldn't see a thing. "Ron?" she cried. "Ron!" She reached out with her hands to feel for her brother; had he gone blind as well.

"Right here," he said, his hand grasping at her forearm. "Bloody Fred and George. Nev, you all right?"

"Yeah," said Neville's voice from the darkness on Ginny's right. "What's going on?"

But as soon as Ron had invoked the names of their elder brothers, Ginny had realized: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and the only place in England where you could buy it was Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Malfoy's reedy laugh, which was instantly interrupted by something more frightening. "Leave them, Draco!" said a deep, gruff voice. "That ain't why we're here. C'mon!"

Ginny could hear several sets of footsteps tracking out of the Room of Requirement and hurrying past them; her pulse heightened and a chill ran over her body. Just who had Malfoy invited into their school? Next to her, Ron hollered "_Stupefy!_" and though she couldn't see the jet of red light she could hear and feel the spell launch from the tip of Ron's wand.

"Ron, don't!" she shouted, lunging for where she thought his arm might be. "You don't know who you're shooting at!"

"Listen to your sister, little boy!" wheezed an unpleasant woman's voice. "You'll get your shot soon enough, won't you?"

"Can't wait," Ginny growled back at her. "_Lumos_!" But nothing happened.

"_Incendio_!" cried Neville's voice next to her. Again, nothing. Clearly no light could penetrate this darkness.

"Keep trying, blood traitors," sneered Malfoy's voice again. "It won't do you any good."

"Enough, Draco! Come on!" The footsteps hurried down the corridor away from them. Ron swore audibly.

"Join hands!" Ginny commanded, and she managed to find Ron's hand to her left and Neville's to her right. Together, they hurried as quickly as they dared down the hallway, hoping to reach an end to the artificial darkness, but it had spread quickly and thoroughly; clearly, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder was just as effective as advertised and (unfortunately) worth every Knut.

Finally, after several long interminable minutes, they stumbled around a corner and out of the darkness into a comparably well-lit corridor. They instantly brought their wands to bear and looked around for Death Eaters, but they were alone. Ron swore again. "They're gone," he said sourly.

"Bloody hell," Ginny muttered. "They could be anywhere by now."

"Let's catch them!" Neville cried. "Come on!" Neville took off down the hallway, Ron and Ginny on his heels.

They hadn't made it through two corridors before turning a corner and discovering the figures of two people standing before them. Ron and Neville reflexively pulled out their wands and leveled them, but Ginny yelled, "STOP!"

Ron and Neville quickly lowered their wands, and Professor Lupin and Tonks did the same. "What are you three doing running around out here?" Professor Lupin asked them. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What's wrong?" said Tonks, coming quickly to Lupin's side, catching on faster than he that something terribly urgent was happening.

"Death Eaters," said Ron, catching his breath. "In the school."

"How?" Lupin asked. "Where?"

"The Room of Requirement," Ginny told them. "And we don't know where."

"How could they get in through the Room of Requirement?" Lupin wondered aloud.

"We'll figure it out later. I'll alert McGonagall," said Tonks, raising her wand and releasing forth from it a silvery wolf, her Patronus charm. Lupin stared after it, and then looked at Tonks in a state of confused shock that Ginny was certain Ron and Neville didn't pick up on.

"What of it?" Tonks said defiantly to Lupin.

Professor Lupin had no answer for that and instead turned away from Tonks and ran down the hallway, Neville and Ron following behind him. "Is now the time for that?" Ginny muttered to Tonks as they started off as well. "Honestly."

"You're one to talk," Tonks shot back at her, but then the subject was changed by the sound of windows shattering in a corridor somewhere ahead of them. Ginny and Tonks redoubled their speed, catching up with the boys and hurrying down a long, high corridor heading in the direction of the Astronomy Tower. Ahead of them Lupin had overtaken Ron and Neville and rounded a corner; from the other side they heard him cry "_Stupefy!_" In return, a jet of green light came blasting from whence he had run, splitting Ron and Neville, missing them by inches and blasting into the stone behind them.

"Remus!" cried Tonks, putting forth a burst of speed Ginny hadn't imagined to be possible, tearing around the corner to join the fray.

Ginny skidded to a halt by Ron and Neville, helping them to their feet. "Quickly, quickly!" she said, dragging them to the corner, from where they tried to get a look at what was going on.

Down the hall lay the entrance to the Astronomy Tower, and no fewer than seven Death Eaters, including Draco Malfoy, were holed up around it and in the hallway leading up to it, seeking cover by pressing themselves up against walls and behind suits of armor. Lupin and Tonks were likewise lying behind a suit of armor that had fallen, risking potshots over their shoulders when they could. "Gibbons!" cried a brutal-faced Death Eater. "The Mark! Put up the Mark!" One of the Death Eaters peeled off at this order and hurried up through the doorway to the Astronomy Tower.

"What do we do?" Neville asked, as he and Ron and Ginny peeked around the doorway.

"There's only two of 'em!" snarled a large, bestial-looking Death Eater who did not have a wand. "C'mon!" Clearly, the element of surprise that Lupin and Tonks had entered battle with had worn off.

"We fight," Ginny said, and even as the Death Eaters began to move in on Tonks and Lupin's position, Ginny ran around the corner, wand out, firing hexes down the hallway, Ron and Neville not far behind her. The Death Eaters fell back once again, and to add to the confusion, as they were pushed back towards the Astronomy Tower, jets of red light began firing on them from the corridor branching off to their right, further down the hall from the position the D.A. and the Order had taken up. The Death Eaters howled in alarm, seemingly unaware now of which way to go, when the large bestial one took a blast of red light to the mouth. He did not fall, though; instead, enraged, he leaped down the hall out of Ginny's line-of-sight, and onto whomever it was who had raised an attack from that side.

"Get off of him, you monster!" Professor McGonagall's voice cried out from the far corridor, and Lupin jumped up at this as well.

"Greyback, no!" he bellowed, lunging blindly down the hallway, firing hexes indiscriminately. He ducked past a large blonde Death Eater, who turned and bellowed "_Avada Kedavra!_" sending a jet of green light at him; the first missed so the Death Eater sent a second, and this one impacted the floor on front of Lupin, blowing it up and sending him flying into a suit of armor, where he slumped to the ground and lay still.

"Remus!" Tonks screamed, and she charged from her own hiding place, red jets of light blazing from her wand, Ginny, Ron and Neville not far behind her. The blonde Death Eater was joined by a brutal faced one and the twin Carrows, driving back the D.A. and forcing Tonks to burrow herself and as much of Lupin as she could carry behind another suit of armor. Down the hall, Ginny could see Greyback reemerging, throwing a limp body in front of him at the foot of the Astronomy Tower entrance, red jets of light flying down the hallway and McGonagall's voice screaming at him.

"Rowle, you imbecile, you just killed Gibbons!" yelled the brutal faced Death Eater to the blonde one as the male Carrows ran to protect Greyback from McGonagall.

"He knew the risks!" Rowle screamed, still casting spells every which way. "He shouldn't be sneaking up behind us while we're throwing Unforgivables!"

"Forget him!" screamed his twin sister, blasting down the hallway at the Order and the DA, and it seemed to be only sheer luck that none of them were hit. "The Mark has been cast. Draco, get up there, NOW!"

Malfoy, who had been crumpled up as small as he could be in a corner, scrambled to his feet and leaped over the body thrown by Greyback, scampering up the Astronomy Tower steps.

"Get back here, you ferret!" bellowed Ron, waving his wand after Malfoy. "_Impedimenta_!"

But the brutal-faced Death Eater just batted Ron's curse aside. "I don't think so, blood-traitor!" he snarled.

"Yaxley, this is getting out of hand!" cried Rowle, backing up towards the stairwell and firing curses almost randomly; Ginny returned fire, crying "_Stupefy!_" and sending her hex towards Rowle and the rogue werewolf, Greyback.

"Look who it is!" Greyback cackled as the rest of the Death Eaters continued to fire on Ginny, Ron, Neville and Tonks while Lupin also pushed himself back to his feet, his wand at the ready. "Don't worry, meat; you'll barely recognize your brother now I'm through with him." Ginny scarcely had enough time to wonder what he was talking about before she had to duck yet another volley of curses.

"Enough!" bellowed Yaxley. "Hold them at bay, Rowle, and don't forget the old woman!" At this, the big blonde Death Eater nodded, and he turned and fired another hex down the adjoining corridor; Ginny turned just in time to see McGonagall leap back into the shelter of a gargoyle.

Then the curses began to fly thick and furious, and it was every man for themselves. The Death Eaters all seemed to be backing up together towards the Astronomy Tower, and in a thick clump they were able to lay down curses that seemed next to impossible to dodge and yet somehow Ron, Ginny, and Neville managed; their luck seemed to be holding out so far.

"Ginny! Ron!" Ginny looked over from where she had landed in an out-of-the-way alcove next to her brother to see Tonks waving to them from behind the suit of armor where she and Lupin were firing on the Death Eaters. "Go! Help Professor McGonagall! Quickly!"

"Go where?" asked Ron. "Past them?"

Ginny didn't much care for the thought of it, either, but said, "She's all by herself over there, Ron, and we'll be okay; the Felix Felicis!"

"Not sure I want to test it this thoroughly," Ron muttered, but he put his head down and his wand up and ran, Ginny doing likewise close behind them. There were several near misses as the Death Eaters took their shots, and though many were close, none hit their mark, and Ron and Ginny made their way down the hall and slid under cover next to Professor McGonagall, who had somehow managed to retrieve the body that Greyback had so abused and was now huddling over it protectively in the shadows of an alcove.

"Mister and Miss Weasley, what are you doing here?" scolded McGonagall scolded as they joined her.

"Sorry, Professor," Ron said, and Ginny could tell it was instinctive.

"Tonks sent us to help you," Ginny said as she fired a few hexes off at the Death Eaters. "Although you seem to be holding up..."

She stopped talking. A curse flew past her head by inches; she barely noticed it. It had just registered with her who it was that McGonagall was protecting. "Bill?" she said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Ron said, spinning around, and then realizing it for himself. It was Bill, their eldest brother, but he was barely recognizable, his face ripped asunder and his clothes drenched in blood.

"Do not touch him!" McGonagall snapped at Ginny. "It was Greyback; those are cursed wounds!"

"But Greyback wasn't transformed!" Ron quickly said. "What does it mean? Is Bill going to be a…"

"I don't know!" McGonagall replied, sending a hex over their shoulders as she did. "I've sent for Professor Snape; he'll know how to help your brother."

"So do I," Ginny said, and she and Ron both turned back to the Death Eaters. Faces matched in a shade of crimson that dulled their hair, they charged their attackers, pelting the Death Eaters with every hex, charm, and curse they could bring to bear. And while they were having trouble telling in the darkness if their attacks were getting through, the counter-attacks flying back towards them seemed to be lessening. The only Death Eater Ginny could make out in the haze of spellfire and smoke was Rowle, the huge blonde one, although he was now acting the part of a one-man assault team, deflecting and launching spells at a maddening rate.

"They've gone up!" cried Neville from somewhere to Ginny's right, and she realized it was true; Rowle was the rearguard left behind. "Come on! We can't let them get away!" At that, Ginny saw Neville break out from underneath Rowle's assault and run towards the Astronomy Tower entrance.

"Longbottom, no!" Professor McGonagall cried, but it was too late. Neville had reached the door, and as he attempted to step over the threshold some invisible force had picked him up and thrown him, hard, into the opposite wall.

"Neville!" cried Ginny. "Are you all right?"

"They've blocked the stairs!" shouted Ron, turning his wand on the barrier. "_Reducto! REDUCTO!" _Ginny got up and ran to help her brother break down the barrier, but no matter how many hexes, curses, and spells they tried, the barrier held. Ginny glance to her right to see if Rowle was closing on them, but she saw the blonde Death Eater locked in combat now with Lupin and Tonks... and striding purposefully down the hallway towards she and Ron was Professor Snape.

"Severus, thank goodness!" cried Professor McGonagall, hurrying towards them as well. "The Death Eaters have blocked themselves into the Astronomy Tower, and Bill Weasley was attacked by Fenrir Greyback!"

"The Dark Mark has been conjured," Snape said coolly, never breaking stride. "I suggest you take your leave of here, Minerva." He stepped between Ron and Ginny and looked up towards the entrance of the Astronomy Tower. At that split second Ginny saw in his face, his eyes, a moment of uncertainty and hesitation. She opened her mouth to speak and he turned to face her, and as his eyes met hers they burned with an emotion that she did not understand and could not comprehend. Whatever words she was going to entreat upon Professor Snape died on her lips.

He broke his gaze with from her and, as if he had never seen her at all, swept past her and through the archway.

"How'd he get through?" Ron wondered aloud.

"He is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," McGonagall said, although she did so nervously. "I am certain he knew an incantation we did not."

"He didn't say an incantation," Ginny quietly pointed out.

"INCOMING!" cried Tonks, and Ginny, Ron, and McGonagall all leaped out of the way just as a hex from Rowle's wand hit the ceiling above them. Ginny covered her head with her arms as the ceiling around and about the tower entrance began to cave in; after several long, tense, rumbling seconds, the falling rock and debris stopped, punctuated by a large flash of light and an audible "POP!"

"The barrier is broken!" Tonks yelled, pulling herself up from the ground and dusting off the rubble and debris. "Let's go!"

But before the Order and the D.A. could regroup, from out of the dust and rubble strode Snape and Malfoy, hurrying away from the Death Eaters. "Get behind us, Severus!" Lupin shouted. "Watch our backs!"

And then the Death Eaters were upon them, and it was madness once again. Ginny found herself locked in battle with Amycus Carrow, who had given up with the lightweight spells and was screaming "_Crucio! Crucio!_" over and over, giggling like a madman as Ginny dodged around his blasts, feeling less and less lucky with each near-miss, realizing that the tiny amount of Felix Felicis she had consumed would not last her forever. Amycus cackled again. "You can't dance forever, pretty -"

"_Impedimenta!_"

The jinx hit Amycus in the chest: he gave a piglike squeal of pain and was lifted off his feet and slammed into the opposite wall, sliding down it and falling out of sight behind Ron, Professor McGonagall and Lupin, all of whom were preoccupied with their own fights. Ginny turned to see who had taken care of her opponent for her...

"Harry!" And it was, out of nowhere. "Where did you come from?" But Harry didn't answer. Instead, he put his head down and sprinted down the corridor in the direction Snape had taken Malfoy. He tripped momentarily over Neville, still slumped against the wall, said a word or two to him, and then was off again, running down the corridor, hexing for good measure the last one or two Death Eaters that were not currently beating a hasty retreat with their fellows.

"Harry!" Ginny called out again, and though Harry didn't stop, Ron appeared at her side.

"Where'd he come from?" Ron asked, amazed. "And where's he going?"

"Is everyone all right?" Ginny asked, demanding an answer. She looked around: the Death Eaters had all retreated, and quite suddenly at that. McGonagall was tending to Bill, who looked like he was moving, and Tonks and Lupin were picking up Neville, slowly.

"Everyone's accounted for, Gin," said Ron.

"Good," said Ginny, and without another word she turned on her heel and tore off down the hall in the direction Harry had gone.

The corridors were empty as her feet pounded through, her wand held out at the ready, her heart ready to rip itself out of her chest. She sprinted through corridor after corridor, desperately looking for some sign, ANY sign, that Harry had been through, occasionally spying a bloody trainer print to follow, her heart sinking every time she did. She ducked into a shortcut, flying down the steps and leaping over the vanishing stair halfway down, coming out of the hidden entrance through a tapestry at the bottom, right in the middle of a group of Hufflepuffs.

"Ginny!" said Ernie Macmillan as he helped two boys to their feet. "What's this about the Dark Mark; what's going – "

"Out of the way, Ernie!" Ginny shouted, shoving her way through her schoolmates and then down the hallways into the Entrance Hall, past groups of terrified students. She almost slipped on one of the rubies that had been knocked out of the now-empty Gryffindor hourglass, shattered by a curse or a hex, and out the doors and into the darkened grounds.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Across the grounds Hagrid's house was on fire. She could just make out through the flames Hagrid's enormous form emerging from the conflagration, carrying someone or something from within over his shoulders and then dropping his parcel unceremoniously on the ground. She could then make out Hagrid bending over a much smaller form, one that seemed to be struggling to its feet, and then both Hagrid and the smaller form raised their wands (or umbrella, in Hagrid's case), and shot forth jets of water, putting out the flames of the house.

She watched in silence as Harry and Hagrid did this, wondering what in the world had just happened. Glancing up, she could see Buckbeak the Hippogriff circling lazily in the air over the gates of the Hogwarts grounds.

Then her attention was drawn to her right, to the large crowd of students and faculty that was forming at the foot of the Astronomy Tower. Curious, she headed towards them, and as she approached she could hear wailing and crying; at least, she heard this from those who did not seem to be walking and looking around in stunned shock.

Just what was going on over there?

She walked faster, and she pushed her way through to the front of the crowd to get a better look.

She immediately wished she hadn't.

She fought to hold back the tears, she really did; still, they couldn't be helped and she knew nobody would blame her. She had always assumed Dumbledore would be the one to figure it out, and be a ripe old bachelor recalling the memory of all the rest of them fondly when he was nine-hundred and three. Fate, though, had other plans. Fate, or something darker.

And cruel though fate was, even in the immediate tragedy before them, Ginny heard the voices around her. "Who will protect us now?" "Where can we be safe if not here?" "We're lost, we're all lost!" She wanted to rail at them, scream at them: a man was dead! A great man, a kind man! How selfish, how ragingly selfish, to worry more about what that truth means for the living than to mourn such a violent and ugly end to a life that deserved so much more.

And besides, Ginny knew precisely where and to whom they were all going to turn now.

As if on cue, Harry pushed his way into the circle, followed by Hagrid.

A murmuring hush fell upon the crowd. Harry walked to Dumbledore's fallen body and knelt beside it, staring into the eyes of his lost mentor. He reached down at one point, picking up what looked like a pocket watch or a locket, opening it up and taking out a note that he read quickly and then crumpled in his hand, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as Fang howled in the distance.

"C'mere, Harry," Hagrid said, standing protectively over him, placing his massive hand on Harry's shoulder.

"No," Harry said thickly.

"You can' stay here, Harry... come on now..."

"No," was Harry's stubborn reply, and it was clear he would move for no one.

"Come on, Harry."

The voice sounded far away in Ginny's ear, and it took her a moment to realize that it had been hers. She didn't even remember walking to him, and didn't expect him to actually come with her, even as she reached down for his hand and took it in hers, wrapped it safely, warmly, gently lifting him up, effortlessly, and guiding him back through the crowd. She wanted to take him from this, to enclose him and keep him shielded... but she knew, even now as they walked away from the crowd and from the madness of the night, quietly hand in hand, she knew the words that Professor Dumbledore had said to her when last they spoke were now coming to fruition, and try though she might there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Things were going to be very, very difficult for Harry Potter from here on out.


	25. Chapter 24: Noble and Stupid

"I suppose I'm just going to have to accept that he really is going to marry her," Ginny sighed, leaning back against Harry as she, Ron, and Hermione sat gazing out an open window in the Gryffindor common room over the twilit Hogwarts grounds.

"She's not that bad," Harry said, at which Ginny looked up at him, arching her eyebrows playfully. "Ugly, though," he hastened to add.

She let out a satisfied chuckle and allowed herself a small smile as she nestled back into Harry's arms. "Well," she reluctantly admitted, "I suppose if Mum can stand it, I can." Truth was, Fleur was actually turning out to be not quite as bad as she and Hermione and her mother had believed in the beginning, caring fiercely for Bill as she was, standing by his side and singing the praises of his bravery to anyone who would listen. No, it seemed as though they may be able to put up with Fleur Delacour after all.

The real truth of it was, they all had bigger things to worry about now.

"Anyone else we know died?" Ron asked Hermione, who was reading the Evening Prophet. She shuddered at the common question; Ginny and Harry shifted uncomfortably as well.

"No," Hermione said as she folded up the paper, and they all exhaled a little in relief. "They're still looking for Snape, but no sign..."

"Of course there isn't," Harry said, and Ginny could feel the anger welling up in him without looking at him. This had become perhaps his least favorite thing to talk about... or perhaps his favorite, judging by how often he brought it up. "They won't find Snape till they find Voldemort, and seeing as how they've never managed to do that in all this time..."

Ginny gently laid her hand on his, and he stopped as suddenly as he had started. He could lose his temper so quickly sometimes without even realizing it. As fast as his anger had risen she felt it ebb away, replaced with the weariness and anxiousness they all felt, although in his case it was increased by tenfold. "I'm going to bed," Ginny said quietly, stifling back a yawn. "I haven't been sleeping that well since..." But she didn't say it. She couldn't. They all knew since when. "Well... I could do with some sleep." Gently, she leaned in and kissed Harry, lingering perhaps a moment or two longer than was absolutely necessary, and with a wave to Hermione and Ron she headed through the door towards the girl's dormitories went off to bed.

Once there, sleep did not come any easier than it had in any of the days since Dumbledore's death. Nothing came easy anymore, it seemed. Since the Headmaster's murder at the hands of a professor, the school had grown as solemn and quiet as she had ever seen it, even as it had grown as crowded as she had ever seen it, with wizards and witches coming from around the world to pay their respects to the memory of the greatest wizard of an age. It was ironic, really: the past few days had seen some of the most magnificent weather imaginable, exams had been canceled so there was nothing to be done but loll around in the sun and wander the grounds, but the usual lazy carelessness of approaching summer was overshadowed by both the sense of mourning for their shared loss and the foreboding dread of what more was yet to come.

Ginny, for her part, spent all of her time with Harry. And Ron and Hermione, yes, but with Harry. He was holding up far better than she had expected, she had to admit, and though there were moments where he seemed to tune them all out and stare off into a future that was fast coming for him, he would just as quickly return to them, return to her, and he was able to be Harry again, as muted in that existence as all of them were in their own.

But he would not speak to her of what was to come next. He would not speak to her, and she would not ask. This did not surprise her, of course; this is how it had always been. What did surprise her was when, earlier in the day, Hermione had approached her and asked her: "Has he been talking to you? About what he's to do next? About what Dumbledore told him to do?"

Ginny had shaken her head. "No, not a word. I assumed that he'd be telling you lot all that."

Hermione had looked away nervously at nothing in particular. "He's said nothing specific, I'm afraid," she said. "A few things here and there, but he hasn't mentioned specifically..."

That was as far as the conversation had gone. But if Harry wasn't going to be letting Ron and Hermione in on whatever Dumbledore's master plan for him was did it mean he was intending to try and carry it out alone? And what could they do to stop him?

For it was clear Dumbledore had a master plan for him. Even if nobody had said as much, all eyes had turned both literally and figuratively to Harry... and he hadn't said a word in complaint of it. He knew. He knew, and the world knew, and Ginny knew. She also knew that it was only a matter of time, only a matter of days, before... until...

It angered her to think of it. She had come so far, had learned so much, had grown up so much (which she had only just realized)... but it was that very growth, really, that kept her upright, and allowed her to accept the inevitability that she did not want to accept, but that she knew would arrive.

The morning of the funeral was a glorious one, so far as mornings go. Hundreds of chairs had been set out in rows next to the lake, and the warm early summer sun glowed down on them, not oppressive in the least. The Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, was there, accompanied by anyone of any import from the Ministry. The Order of the Phoenix was there, and Ginny smirked to herself at the sight of Professor Lupin and Tonks holding hands. Figured. Madame Maxime and her students from Beauxbatons had come to pay their respects, Fleur's sister Gabrielle among them. Most of the population of Hogsmeade was in attendance, one of the musicians from the Weird Sisters, Celestina Warbeck, half the Quidditch teams in the International League, prominent wizards and witches from Australia to America, even the merpeople under the lake had arisen to offer their condolences in the form of a haunting, incomprehensible song... it was a virtual "Who's Who" of the wizarding world, and yet nobody seemed to take notice of the star-power in attendance. The spirit of the day was far damper than all that (although, Ginny noted, that did not stop Rita Skeeter's pen from flying across her notepad).

The current students of Hogwarts sat with their houses in the rows furthest back from the front of the congregation; she, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken seats at the end of one of the rows nearest to the lake. Offhandedly Ginny wondered if anyone had suggested to Harry a seat of more prominence; if they had, it was no surprise that he would not have taken it. Or perhaps Professor McGonagall had not allowed such an offer to be made. Ginny was starting to realize just how much protection they had had from the various guardians in their lives.

It was clear that this protection was now crumbling all around them.

Finally, Hagrid appeared at the top of the aisle that bisected the seats, carrying the shrouded form of Dumbledore, wrapped as it was in a great swath of purple velvet spangled with stars. Ginny had tried all day, tried to be strong (for Harry, she had told herself), but at this, this physical, visible reminder that Dumbledore was no longer here to guide them, she could not keep the tears from falling. She was not alone.

Hagrid processed slowly down the aisle, his beard thick with his own tears, and laid Dumbledore's form gently upon a raised marble table at the front of the congregation, retreating then to sit next to his half-brother, the giant Grawp.

And then the speech began, the eulogy, and a little man Ginny had never seen before dressed all in black droned on and on, but the words did not quite make it back to the assembled Hogwarts students. Still, nobody shifted in their seats, nobody began to murmur or mumble to their neighbors. Ginny's mind wandered off, and she could not help but think of the last time she had spoken to the Headmaster, up in his office, after she had broken in over problems that seemed so distant now, so petty.

_Motivation._

She had managed to keep that word at bay over the past few months, but since Dumbledore's death it had been sneaking up on her. It was the role the Headmaster claimed she would play in whatever events were set to unfold, dark events by anyone's guess. She still couldn't imagine what it meant, entirely, and she couldn't imagine what it meant she would have to do, if anything. She did not like the idea of "playing" a part, frankly, and she didn't like the implication. Her whole family would be in grave danger very shortly, she expected, and she didn't like the idea of simply sitting around and prodding someone else on to action when there was so much she was sure she could do herself. It was an argument she had been privately rolling over in her mind for days now, and which had been keeping her up at nights.

And just when she had convinced herself, again, that the Headmaster hadn't known what he was talking about and that she would go storming into battle on her own, if things came to it... she turned and looked to Harry, sitting stoically beside her, not listening to the endless speech but staring out over the lake, the weight of the wizarding world clearly resting on his shoulders...

And her resolve melted. She knew she would do whatever she had to do, play whatever part was required of her, so long as it would help Harry come safely through this ordeal that awaited him.

Without warning, flames erupted around Dumbledore's body, bright, white flames that leaped high into the air, obscuring the Headmaster's form from view. People screamed, a few people rose from their seats... and like that, it was over. The flames were gone, and in their place stood a magnificent marble tomb, encasing Dumbledore's body and the marble table on which he had rested. A flight of arrows soared out from the Forbidden Forest, high into the air, falling far short of the crowd. Their tribute complete, the centaurs retreated back into the shadows of the trees.

The funeral was over; so lost in thought had she been, Ginny hardly remembered it beginning. Around them people were beginning to stir, beginning to quietly rise to their feet, leaning on each other for support, wiping their eyes. Ginny looked to her right; Hermione was lying on Ron, sobbing hysterically. She looked to her left and her gaze met Harry's.

And she could see that it was time.

She returned his gaze as fiercely as she could, trying to will him the strength to do what she knew he had to do, what she did not want him to do but what she knew had to be done. He leaned in to her. "Ginny, listen..." he began quietly. "I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together."

She smiled, strangely. It was beginning almost exactly as she had expected it would. "It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?" she asked.

"It's been like... like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you," Harry said. "But I can't... we can't..." He took a deep breath. "I've got things to do alone now," he finally said as way of explanation. She said nothing, but waited for him to explain further. Alone? But surely Ron and Hermione... ? "Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to," Harry went on. "He's already used you as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

Ginny shook her head. If he was trying to explain why he was breaking up with her, something she understood had to be done, saying it was out of fear of what might happen to her was not the tactic he should be using. She was the last person she was worried about. "What if I don't care?" she asked him stubbornly.

"I care," came his firm reply. "How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral... and it was my fault..."

She looked away from him. That would work better. She couldn't bear the thought of that, the image that had jumped into her mind of Harry weeping, alone, wracked with guilt... and the idea that the loss of her would bring him that much pain... which she understood, she did. Because she knew that's exactly how she would react if she lost him.

It suddenly occurred to her, at this, the most maddening of moments for her to realize it... it occurred to her that she loved him so much that it hurt.

She almost said it. She couldn't. "I never really gave up on you," she said instead, quietly. "Not really. I always hoped... Hermione told me to get on with my life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember?" As she said it, she realized she was telling him a secret she had embarrassingly kept locked away for years, and now that she had said it... it wasn't anything. So funny how that worked. "And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more – myself."

"Smart girl, that Hermione," Harry said; Ginny looked back to see him allow himself a small smile. "I just wish I'd asked you sooner. We could've had ages... months... years maybe..."

"But you've been too busy saving the wizarding world," Ginny said, forcing herself to laugh awkwardly at her awful joke. It was either laugh or... "Well... I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort." She shrugged; she didn't know what else to do. She suddenly felt it was all she could say to keep from disintegrating into an inconsolable heap. "Maybe that's why I like you so much," she admitted quietly.

They sat in silence for a moment more, and so many other things rolled around in Ginny's mind that she wanted to say... but then he was gone, up and off, walking to who-knows-where.

Ginny sat silently and alone for a few moments, a few small tears rolling down her cheek. It was what had to be done, she knew. It was what had to be done. He had things that he had to do, world-changing things, world-SAVING things, and she would not have been able to live with herself if she had tried to hold him back.

It didn't make it any easier.

"Ginny? Are you all right?"

She looked to her right, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Ron and Hermione were staring at her with concern. They knew what had just happened. She began to nod her head, to assure them that she was fine... but why fight it?

"No, I'm not," she said thickly, tears threatening to fall anew. She shook her head once, twice, angry with herself, forcing herself to stop being so emotional. The tears retreated and her voice found itself again. "I'm not," she said more confidently. "But who is, these days?" She got to her feet and turned to watch after Harry. The Minister of Magic had approached him and they seemed to be arguing, again. She looked back to Ron and Hermione. "Go after him," she told them. "He needs you. And please... keep him safe."

Without another word, she turned and headed back towards the school. Behind her she could hear Ron and Hermione jump to their feet and hurry off in the direction Harry had gone. Ginny Weasley did not allow herself to look back until she had reached the main steps of Hogwarts. Then she turned and found, off in the distance, the familiar figures of her brother Ron and her friend Hermione, wandering off on their own alongside Harry Potter, detached from the rest of the school and the rest of the world.

Just as it should be.

For now.

_Author's note: I haven't responded much to your reviews, but I've read and appreciated each of them, both the praise and the criticism. Thanks, everyone, for reading along, and I hope you've enjoyed it!_

_So far._

_There's four more chapters to go._


	26. Chapter 25: The Deathly Hallows Part 1

**1. **

"But why CAN'T I go?" Ginny said angrily to her father.

"For the last time, Ginny, because you are underage!" replied Arthur Weasley, speaking low enough so that none of the fourteen witches and wizards inside the house would be able to hear them.

"I'm barely underage, and Ron and Hermione..."

"You know as well as I do that we have no chance of keeping Ron and Hermione from this," Arthur said shortly. "If I had my druthers, they wouldn't be going, and neither would Fleur."

"Or Mundungus," Ginny said dryly.

"That isn't very nice, Ginny," her father warned. "Mundungus has his rough edges, of course, but Mad-Eye vouches for him well enough, and Dumbledore trusted him..."

"And we saw how far that got him with Snape, didn't we?"

Arthur glared at her. "That is enough out of you, young lady. You'll stay here with your mother and that's final." As he spoke, the rest of the Order of the Phoenix and their assorted allies began to emerge from within The Burrow, heading to their brooms and thestrals and (in one very large case) enchanted motorbikes. Mad-Eye was barking out last minute instructions and Bill and Professor Lupin were casting Disillusionment Charms. Hermione and Ron were the last two out of The Burrow, and they glanced at her sympathetically as they passed. "If you're so desperate to risk your life, don't worry," her father added as he stepped away to join the escort party. "I'm certain we'll all get our chances at that soon enough."

**2.**

It was awful and difficult to look at, but Ginny forced herself to be strong, both for her mother and for George. The bleeding had been stopped, anyway, and she was sure over time they'd all get used to seeing him with only one ear...

"How is he?"

Ginny glanced behind her to see Harry coming into the sitting room from the kitchen. "I can't make it grow back," her mother told him, her voice echoing with forced steadiness, "not when it's been removed by Dark Magic. But it could have been so much worse... He's alive."

"Yeah," said Harry, although he sounded to Ginny as though he was not convinced this whole mission could have gone worse than it had. "Thank God."

"Did I hear someone else in the yard?" Ginny asked, turning to face him.

"Hermione and Kingsley," he said.

She exhaled a bit. "Thank goodness," she whispered. Their eyes found each other, stayed on each other, and Ginny had to fight the sudden urge to embrace him, to steady the both of them, to hold on. She suddenly didn't care in the least if her mother or anyone else in the house knew what they had been to each other for those last few, brief weeks at Hogwarts.

The moment was shattered, though, by a great crash from the kitchen, and her father bellowing, "I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son, now back off if you know what's good for you!"

Her father ran into the room, sweating and glasses askew, Fred close behind him. "Arthur!" sobbed her mother, releasing all of her pent-up tension and embracing him. "Oh thank goodness!"

"How is he?" Arthur asked, and Ginny moved aside so he could kneel next to George. She saw both her father and Fred go pale at the sight of George's injury, but right at that moment, George began to stir.

"How do you feel, Georgie?" her mother asked, hurrying back to her son's side.

George's fingers groped at the side of his head, feeling the damage of what had been done to him. "Saintlike," he murmured.

"What's wrong with him?" Fred asked, looking around the room in alarm. "Is his mind affected?"

"Saintlike," repeated George, opening his eyes and looking at Fred. "You see... I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?"

Her mother cried harder and Fred grinned; Ginny felt a flood of relief wash over her as well. "Pathetic," said Fred. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go for holey?"

"Ah, well," George said with a small shrug. "You'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum. Hi, Harry – " He stopped and took a narrow look at Harry. "You are Harry, right?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry, stepping in closer to George so he could see.

"Well, at least we got you back okay. Why aren't Ron and Bill huddled round my sickbed?"

"They're not back yet, George," their mother said quietly. George's grin faded. The relief Ginny had just felt faded away along with it.

She glanced at Harry and caught his eye; he motioned for her to join him as he turned away from the grouping at the couch and headed back to the kitchen.

"Ron and Tonks should be back by now," she said in a low tone to him as they walked together towards the yard. "They didn't have a long journey; Auntie Murial's not that far from here."

Harry nodded slightly but said nothing, staring straight ahead as they walked, his lips in a tight line. Ginny knew that he was already putting the responsibility for George's injury on his own shoulders. If anyone else turned up hurt or, Merlin forbid, didn't turn up at all, she didn't know if Harry's back would be able to hold all of the weight.

As they stepped into the concealing darkness of the yard to join those keeping a vigil outside, she slipped her hand into his, squeezing it tight, hoping to ease some of the burden from him, not caring who saw. He did not pull away.

**3.**

"I think Mum thinks that if she can stop the three of you getting together and planning, she'll be able to delay you leaving," Ginny explained to Harry in an undertone as they set the table. It had been three days since his arrival at The Burrow, and Ginny had watched from afar as her mother had expertly kept Harry, Ron, and Hermione apart.

"And then what does she think's going to happen?" Harry said sourly, placing forks down with perhaps a little more force than absolutely necessary. "Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she's holding us here making vol-au-vents?"

Ginny felt the blood drain from her face. She had known, but to hear it put into so many words... "So it's true?" she asked in a hushed tone, her hand holding her father's plate inches above the table. "That's what you're trying to do?"

Harry realized what he had said. "I – not – I was joking," he tried to cover, badly.

She may have expected fear or even revulsion to rush through her upon hearing such a thing, but what she felt instead was an overwhelming sense of pride and affection and... if she had thought it impossible to love him anymore than she already did she had clearly been mistaken... they were staring at each other, and the green of his eyes took her back to several weeks earlier, better times, hidden off together in the grounds of Hogwarts, before Harry was summoned to Dumbledore's office on the night everything changed... she wondered if Harry was remembering the same... he must have been; the air was thick with it...

And then her brother and father and Kingsley walked in the kitchen and she and Harry both jumped, quickly looking away from each other and finishing the table. Before too long the rest of The Burrow's hundred or so current occupants had joined them and they were all crammed at the table for dinner, Ginny next to Harry, trying her best not to accidentally brush against him or even look at him, feeling very much as though she may explode from the pressure and frustration.

Wheeeee.

**4.**

"And, of course, you 'ave met my leetle daughter, Gabrielle!" Monsieur Delacour said in his thick French accent. The eleven year old mini-Fleur flashed a perfect smile when introduced and gave Ginny's Mum a warm if somewhat-overdone hug. She then turned to Harry, blushing coyly and tossing her long, platinum hair as she batted her eyes at him. Ginny cleared her throat. The younger girl glanced up at her and quickly retreated under Ginny's glare, blushing for real this time.

As the party retreated into the house, Ginny shook her head irritably. Just how young did these Delacour girls start, anyway?

**5.**

Ginny watched through her bedroom window as Harry and Ron sniped back and forth at each other, an anxious Hermione standing off to the side. She whipped her head around again as she paced to the other side of the room; oh, she could kill Ron, just kill him! "The nerve of him, the utter nerve!" she seethed aloud. Loads of girls kissed boys who weren't their boyfriends; it happened all the time, constantly! So why shouldn't she be able to… she could snog whomever she wanted… Ron couldn't say…

"The hell with Ronald!" she said angrily to herself. She looked out the window again and saw that Ron and Hermione had left Harry to sit on the lawn by himself; well, that sealed it. If she wanted to kiss Harry, she would kiss Harry, 'official' girlfriend or not. She turned to her door, with every intention of marching down to the lawn and snogging Harry into a bloody stupor, but she swung the door open only to find her gormless brother standing with a fist raised, ready to knock.

"You listen to me, Ronald!" Ginny snarled. "Where do you think you get off, barging into my room and interrupting… I have every right to… he doesn't have to be my boyfriend, and if I want to snog him… and I don't care what you and he and she are going to do, you are not going to tell me who I can and can't…"

She trailed off. Ron was looking far more somber than she had expected. "We need to talk," he said quietly, and entered the room. Ginny looked out her door and down the steps into the kitchen; she saw Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, still looking anxious. Ginny looked back at her brother, standing in the middle of her room, back at Hermione… and then closed the door.

She and Ron looked at each other for a moment, brother and sister. Ginny was unable to read Ron's face, or at least she was reading it and seeing something she had not expected. She had expected anger. She was reading sadness.

"You can't do that to him anymore," Ron said with a quiet urgency.

"And I should like to know why the bloody hell..."

"For all the reasons you told Hermione he told you," Ron cut her off. "That's right. My best mate doesn't talk much about these things, and seeing how he's spent a good portion of the last month snogging my sister, I understand. But Hermione told me what you told her he said when he broke up with you, and he's right. If You-Know-Who ever got wind of the pair of you, you'd be as good as dead."

"I don't care about any of that rubbish!" Ginny snapped back, but she could feel her anger draining away in the face of this quiet insistence that was so alien to Ron's nature. "And besides, we're not together again! It was only one kiss!"

"It wasn't though, was it?" said Ron.

"We haven't been sneaking all over the place snogging if that's what you're asking, not that it's any of your…"

"That's not what I'm asking," said Ron. "It's… look, if it was just the two of you having a bit of fun… well, that would be loathsome, now I think of it, but in the end what would it really matter to You-Know-Who?" Ron shook his head. "That's what I mean, it wasn't just a kiss, was it? I mean… it isn't just about that, is it?"

Ginny got it. She didn't know how to answer. She sat on the bed.

"And I know you're not scared of You-Know-Who, even though you should be," Ron continued, sitting next to her. "But this isn't all about that, and this isn't just about Harry messing around with your head or… or whatever, though I don't want him doing that." Ron shook his head. "It's about Harry, too. You can't mix him up like that."

"Mix him up?" Ginny asked. "What do you mean?"

"Harry's got to… do some very important things," Ron said carefully, "and he's set on it. Dumbledore's orders. He's determined, you know? But I think… I think that the only thing that could keep him from going and doing them is you. You go messing his head up like that... you can't, Gin. You can't do that to him."

Ginny laughed. "I can't do that to him? Weren't you just yelling at him not to do that to me?"

"Sure," Ron said. "I don't want him tugging you around. But I'm also trying to keep you from him."

"Why in the bloody..."

"Because otherwise he'll want to stay!" Ron cried in exasperation. "Don't you get it? He won't want to do what we have to do! He'll want to stay behind and protect you!"

"You've gone mental," Ginny said with a laugh. "Harry won't stay behind for me. Have you met him?"

"No, he won't," Ron admitted quietly. "You're right. But he'll think about it. And he can't even do that." Ginny looked carefully at her brother. He was serious, wasn't he? "What we have to do is going to be hard enough," Ron continued. "We don't need anyone whose heart isn't into it, y' know?"

They sat in silence for a moment. Ginny understood. She didn't have to like it, but she understood. She and Harry had broken up for that reason, after all, so he'd be free to go after Voldemort, to go and… go and…

"What is it you lot have to do, anyway?" Ginny asked Ron quietly.

Ron gave a frustrated grunt. "There," he said, "is the question of the year."

**6.**

Everyone sat in stunned silence, dinner momentarily forgotten, watching after the door through which Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just followed Minister Scrimgeour into The Burrow. Finally, Ginny's Mum spoke. "What does he want them for, Arthur?" she asked her husband, but he could only shrug and shake his head.

"What DOES he want them for?" George asked softly. Ginny looked over her shoulder to realize he was speaking to her. Not everyone had heard him, but of those who had, only Fred and Fleur looked as though they knew why he had chosen to ask her.

"How the bloody hell should I know what he wants?" Ginny muttered. Deciding she didn't want to bother with being asked about it again, she quickly got up and, before her parents could protest, headed into The Burrow and up to her room.

**7.**

"So how do I look?" asked Harry to the assemblage of Weasley siblings as he came down the stairs from Ron's bedroom into the kitchen, sporting bright red hair, a somewhat larger frame, and the face of the Muggle boy from town.

"Perfect!" cried Fred as George burst into uproarious laughter.

"Wow," said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief.

Fred and George began examining their handiwork, loudly crowing and patting each other on the back for Harry's disguise. They were the ones who had managed to use a Summoning Charm to smuggle a few stray locks from the boy for use with the Polyjuice Potion. It was easy, they claimed; they followed him to a shop where he sat in a chair and allowed another grown man to cut his hair with knives, so they simply had to summon a few strands from where they had landed at his feet and beat a hasty retreat. Ginny wasn't entirely sure she believed them; she could not imagine such an absurd set-up.

"I have to admit," Bill said to Ginny as Harry and Ron retreated upstairs to get into their dress robes, "he looks just like one of the family."

"Hmmph," was all Ginny said in response before climbing the stairs to her own room to continue getting ready for the wedding. Bill was one hundred percent correct; Harry DID look just like a Weasley. And frankly, all things considered, she found that more than a little disturbing.

**8.**

"I see you are using zee perfume I gave you. I 'ope it 'as come in 'andy."

Without her realizing, Fleur had quietly slipped into her room just as she was applying her perfume. Fleur looked even more radiant than usual, if such a thing were possible.

"Fleur," Ginny gasped, breathless in spite of herself. "You look… beautiful." The word seemed weak, but she could think of no other. Fleur, though, brushed the compliment off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Eh," she said. "I know zis."

Ginny's teeth began to grind themselves in their usual Fleur-action, but then a thought struck her. "You don't mean that as bragging, do you?"

Fleur's eyes widened. "Bragging?" she asked. "Is zat what you think?"

"Well, in a word… yes?"

Fleur laughed. Somewhere, a hundred little bells rang in perfect unison. "Ginny, I am 'alf Veela!" she cried. "I was born wit' beauty! I 'ad no say in zat!"

Ginny smiled ruefully. "I didn't realize you carried such a burden," she said, but for the first she meant it at least somewhat playfully.

Fleur smiled back. "Oh, it eez not so terrible," she said. "But eet would be easy, you know, to simply be beautiful and be nothing else. Many Veela and 'alf-Veela do zis." She shook her head. "I will not be defined by 'ow I look. Ginny, why do you zink I 'ave chosen to work at Gringott's?"

"Because Bill works there?" Ginny offered. She had always thought that to be true, but now that she said it aloud it sounded incredibly stupid.

Fleur looked indignant. She wore it exquisitely. "Do you really zink I would choose my occupation so I could be near a man? I 'ave chosen to work with zee Goblins because, to them, I am as 'ideous as any other 'uman. I do not want to be in a position where my appearance will overshadow my work. I will not 'ave it."

Ginny was speechless. She never even imagined… "You can't mean to say that you consider your beauty to be a sort of… curse, can you?"

"No, certainly not," Fleur replied haughtily. "Eet eez who I am, and I am proud of zat. But that means I must work twice as 'ard as another for anything I do to be given merit. You may zink I am beautiful, Ginny, but zat means nothing to me. All that matters to me is zat I 'ave your respect."

"I never realized…" Ginny said. She felt foolish beyond all compare. Fleur was an intelligent, talented woman. Ginny realized very sheepishly that she was as guilty as anyone of judging without fair cause the half-Veela her brother was marrying.

Fleur studied Ginny thoughtfully. "You know, Ginevra… I zink we may 'ave more in common than you would like to admit. It is true that beauty may not come difficultly to one such as me, but… " She looked at Ginny up and down, dressed as she was herself for the day's festivities. "I zink, perhaps," she added, "eet eez not so difficult for you, either."

And then gently, and with characteristic grace, Fleur cradled Ginny's face in her hands.

"You must make 'im miss you, Ginny," she whispered. "'Ee must miss you as 'ee would miss the air 'ee breathes. Do this, and 'ee will return to you, I promise." She smiled softly. "Somehow, I don't think eet will be difficult for you."

Ginny's eyes threatened to spill tears once again. She was sick of them doing that. "Have I really been that obvious?" she asked quietly.

Fleur shook her head. "No," she promised. "You 'ide it well. 'Arry, 'owever, does not."

Ginny smiled. Those threatening tears began to fall. "Tell me, Fleur," she pleaded. "Why are you marrying my brother?"

Fleur looked confused. "Why… because I love 'im."

Ginny nodded and grinned through her tears. "Good answer," she said. And for the first time the two young women embraced, as sisters.

**9.**

"Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely," her Auntie Murial said in a whisper that wasn't really a whisper. "But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut."

Ginny grinned at this. She glanced around to pick Harry out in the crowd and, finding him (disguise and all), she winked at him.

She gave a little gasp and quickly turned away, blushing; it had been a reflexive reaction on her part, and a foolish one at that as it risked blowing Harry's cover. Still, she had felt compelled for some reason to share that moment with Harry, her Aunt's comment on the scandalous nature of her dress, a comment that had been typical Auntie Murial… brutal in its honesty. Refocusing her attention forward, Ginny caught Fleur grinning at her and she stuck her tongue out at her soon-to-be sister-in-law. Her mind flashed to the delicate and dangerously cut pale yellow sleeping robes of lace and silk that Fleur had gotten her for Christmas last, still shoved and hidden under her bed. She had dared to try them on only once, and only after making very sure nobody was anywhere near her room. Her blush grew fiercer.

**10.**

"I vas vondering," Krum asked, "if you vould care for a dance."

"No, thank you," Ginny replied, smiling sweetly at the request. "I'm taken, I'm afraid."

"And your boyfriend, he is the jealous, dangerous type, I hear," grumbled Krum.

Ginny glanced over to where 'Cousin Barney' sat talking with her Auntie Murial and Mr. Doge, the oldest member of the Order, looking perfectly miserable. "He's not my boyfriend just at the moment," she said. "And as for dangerous... you have no idea." With another smile she turned and walked away, leaving a thoroughly confused Viktor Krum behind her.

**11.**

Chaos erupted in the wake of Kingsley's Patronus. Xenophilius Lovegood ran over and grabbed Luna's hand from where she had been chatting with Ginny just moments before. "Oh, no, daddy!" Luna protested, but her father spun where he stood, Disapparating away with his daughter even as Luna reached to grab hold of Ginny.

Ginny spun wildly, looking for Ron and Hermione, and Harry. _Harry has to get out of here, he has to_, she kept repeating to herself as she pushed her way through the crowd. She shoved her way past two of the band members, who were running and screaming and looking almost comical about it in their gold jackets, just in time to see Hermione grasp Ron's hand, holding onto 'Cousin Barney' with the other, and then spin in place, the three of them disappearing on the spot.

Ginny exhaled. Somehow, she was relieved. It was a short-lived relief, however, as a moment later a Death Eater appeared where Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been standing with a wand pointed right at her.

**12.**

"Look at you," Greyback said to Bill with a toothy grin as Ginny watched from the chair she had been roughly shoved into by a Death Eater. "Uglier'n me and you still get yerself a piece like that." He winked at Fleur, who took a step towards him as she reached into a hidden fold of her gown for her wand, restrained only by Bill's assured hand. "Nah, let 'er come, Red," Greyback said, a thin line of drool running down his jawline. "I could use the sport."

"Soon enough, I'd reckon," Bill said coolly. "A time and a place. And don't think my wife's such easy pickings. You'd be better off with me, clearly," he said with a wry half-smile, gesturing to his own face.

Ginny shook her head. Her brother was cool and level-headed under pressure, she knew, but this was beyond the pale, faced with the creature who had mutilated his face. Greyback was about to retort, when the small, crooked Death Eater re-emerged from within the house. "No luck, Greyback," he called over the other dozen or so of his fellows that had Apparated into the wedding and were now rounding up Ginny's family. "The Potter brat's friend is up in his room. Spattergroit. Awful case. Don't get too close."

Greyback scowled. "You sure?" he asked.

"You want to check?" the other Death Eater asked. "Go right ahead, mate." Greyback wrinkled up his nose in a sour expression. He did not much look as though he wanted to check. Inwardly, Ginny smiled: Ron's decoy had worked. That was one small victory, at least.

**13.**

The older witch screamed in crazed frustration, and with a wave of her wand the kitchen table went flying over on its side, crashing into the wall. Ginny heard her mum yell her name from out in the garden, but she didn't acknowledge it, did not flinch.

"Tell me!" Bellatrix demanded, a wild look in her eyes, stomping towards Ginny past the ruins of the table she had just flipped over and sticking her wand under her chin. "Tell me where he is! Where is your little boyfriend? TELL ME!"

"I've been telling you, I don't know." Ginny said, trying her best to keep her voice cool and steady. It had been half an hour now, and though she had not been hurt aside from a few bumps and bruises and a torn dress there had been several close calls. Merlin only knew what Bellatrix Lestrange could do if sufficiently angered. It was taking every ounce of strength in Ginny's being to keep the combination of fear and rage that had been roiling around within her for the length of her interrogation from betraying itself in her voice. "And for the last time, he's not my boyfriend, not anymore. I hate the bloody git. Goes off with that Granger girl…"

"And where is she?" Bellatrix asked.

"Try Australia," Ginny shot back.

That tore it. Her eyes wide with anger, Bellatrix stepped back and raised her wand. "CRUCI - "

"Bellatrix!" Yaxley stood at the door. "Let's go. There's nothing here. Seems they're smart enough to keep Potter away these days."

Bellatrix did not move. She was still staring at Ginny with that same wild look in her eyes. "Now, Bella!" Yaxley yelled. "The Dark Lord will want his report!"

That did it. With one last contemptuous look to Ginny, Bellatrix fled the room. As soon as she had left, Ginny fell to the floor, shaking, hugging herself tight.

"Ginny!"

It was her mother. She ran in, followed closely by her father and Bill, all of whom helped her to her feet and into the sitting room. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she murmured to them, trying to assure them.

But to herself, she admitted one thing: that had been bloody close.

**14.**

"You don't have to go, you know," her mother said quietly, sitting at the repaired kitchen table, staring at her folded hands. "Not with Snape installed as Headmaster. Not after what he did to George, and to... to..." and here she stopped, unable to bring herself to say Dumbledore's name.

Ginny stood in the kitchen with her mother and father, one hand on her trunk. It had been particularly quiet in the house since the awful excitement of the wedding. The occasional Order member came through, as did Fred and George, but with The Burrow under obvious watch for any sign of Harry Potter visits news from others had become sporadic, at best.

"I don't know, mum..." Ginny began, running her finger along the edge of her trunk. If she were being completely honest there was a small part of her telling her not to go, not with Snape in charge and those Death Eater Carrows installed as new professors, announced as it had been in that morning's _Prophet_. She could not forget her interrogation at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, and the identities of those in power in the new regime at Hogwarts seemed to indicate that any student at any time could be subject to similar treatment no matter how fervently Professors McGonagall and Flitwick and Sprout and their ilk opposed it.

Her mother must have sensed her reticence and pressed on. "It would be all right, love. Nobody would think any less of you."

Ginny thought about it. Harry and Ron and Hermione were off to who-knows-where, she had no idea if any of her other friends were going to make the trip to school, rumors had been rampant all summer about students being pulled out and taken out of the country by parents, and without the Floo Network and with owls being watched communication was difficult... she could easily stay at The Burrow, hidden away, safe... only The Burrow wasn't necessarily safe now, was it?

"I have to go, mum," Ginny said quietly. Her mother's face fell. "I have to," Ginny explained, turning to her father, hoping he'd understand. "I know nobody else would think less of me for staying home, but I would think less of me. I have to go. I can't let everyone else face Snape and the Carrows alone."

"Now don't you go doing anything rash and... and... and stupid when you get there!" her mother said, her voice rising. "Bad enough your brother and Harry and Hermione are off doing whatever-it-is that blame fool man, rest his soul, asked them to do, I certainly don't need my youngest, my only daughter, my baby..." but here she stopped, and broke into tears again.

"Mum, please," said Ginny, reaching out for her mother's shoulder. "Don't do that. I'll stay safe, I promise."

"We're all in it now, Molly," her father said, coming to her mother's other side. "All of us. I'm sure Ginny will be careful, won't you Ginny?" he added, giving her a stern glance as he did so.

"Yes, dad," she said quickly.

"Good, then. Molly, why don't you freshen up, and we'll be off? Don't want to miss the train, do we?"

Her mother nodded, got to her feet, and grasped Ginny's face and gave her a kiss before excusing herself, dabbing at her eyes. As soon as she had left the room, Ginny's father turned to her again. "But don't let them walk all over you or anyone else, and don't be afraid to fight back if you have to, do you hear me?" he said softly and firmly.

She smiled. "Yes, dad."

Her father nodded. "Good, then."

**15.**

"Went to ground, he did," Seamus said as the Hogwarts Express chugged on through the English countryside. "Doesn't know if he's Muggle-born, y'know? His dad left his mum when he was little. So he thought he'd best not take any chances, and took to the road. No idea where he is."

Everyone in the compartment nodded solemnly. More and more reports like this were coming in, the stories of students who would not be returning for one reason or another. She had not seen her friends Demelza or Natalie yet, something she was trying not to think too much about. The tale of Ginny's ex-boyfriend was one of the more optimistic of the stories she'd heard so far, honestly. She found herself hoping that Dean had found safety; she did not dislike the boy, after all, she just wasn't particularly fond of dating him.

In the hall outside, a pack of wild Slytherins ran past, whooping loudly and firing spells indiscriminately. "Like this up and down the train," Neville grumbled.

"It is," agreed Parvati. "Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs are too scared to come out of their compartments. Doesn't help that there's so few of us left." Her sister nodded solemnly.

"But what's to be done about it?" whispered Lavender. "How can we fight back without... ?"

Ginny felt all of the eyes in the compartment shift to her. She stared stubbornly out the window. She wondered who would ask.

"So, Gin," said Seamus, elected for the task. "Er... any idea where Harry, Ron, and Hermione have gone?"

"I haven't seen Harry since we... since the end of last term," Ginny said automatically, her answer well-rehearsed. "Hermione's Muggle-born, so she and her family have left the country, I hear. As for Ron, he's at home. Spattergroit. Rather a nasty case of it, too."

"Oh, that's a shame!" said Luna earnestly. "He looked so healthy at the wedding!" Ginny looked to Luna; if she was pretending, she was doing a marvelous job of it.

"Spattergroit?" Padma asked incredulously. "Really, Ginny, you don't expect us to believe..."

"Nasty stuff, spattergroit," Neville said firmly, cutting her off. "My gran had it once. Knocks you right out, you can barely recognize yourself. But I guess that settles where Harry, Ron, and Hermione are. Right?" he said to the compartment at large, and there was something in his voice, unusual for Neville, that let everyone know the conversation was closed. Ginny looked at him in gratitude; he just smiled. "I guess this means we'll all have to keep each other safe, then."

As Neville said this he was looking pointedly at Ginny. She didn't understand his meaning, but then looked around the compartment to find that everyone was gazing at her and nodding their heads. She realized that they knew: her recent status as Harry Potter's girlfriend would make her a target, and they were telling her now, without having to say it, that they all had her back.

She fought back the suddenly formed lump in her throat. "Right," she said in a voice that threatened to become emotional. She swallowed hard and cleared it, meeting everyone's gaze steadily. "All of us for each other."

**16.**

"Natalie's father is Muggle-born," Dennis said in a low voice. "The have family in Canada; she and her dad and mum went there."

"What about Demelza?" Ginny asked. Dennis glanced down the Gryffindor table at Jimmy Peakes, Demelza's boyfriend, who Ginny noticed for the first time looked absolutely miserable.

"She's Muggle-born, herself," Dennis said quietly. "Don't know where she is. No one's heard from her."

A chill ran down Ginny's spine. "She's not the only one," Neville said quietly on her other side, shaking his head. Together, they looked around the hall. The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were sparsely populated; the Slytherin table, on the contrary, was fairly packed and raucous. The Sorting had taken only a few minutes, as there were so few first-years to be Sorted, and the ones who had been brave enough to make the trip all looked terrified. Ginny had been mildly surprised that the Sorting hadn't ended up with them all placed in Slytherin, but then again she reasoned it would be difficult for any outside force to influence the Sorting Hat's decisions. Still, for the protection of the young new students, putting them in Slytherin may have been wise. They could always be re-sorted when Hogwarts was in good hands again. If.

"Students, your attention."

Another cheer rose up from the Slytherin table, but Professor Snape raised a hand to cut it off. The rest of the students in the Great Hall did not share the Slytherin's enthusiasm, and most bore expressions of either anger or terror. The teachers on the staff table did not look any happier, save the Carrows. Ginny found it infuriating to see Snape standing in Dumbledore's usual spot and a glance at Neville, red in the face himself, told her that he felt the same way.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts," Snape drawled in his slick, passionless voice, "both new and returning students alike. Before we head up to bed, there are a few new rules of which you should be made aware."

He looked to the Gryffindor table as he said this. Ginny's mood darkened even more and her ears perked up. She wanted to pay attention to these; she wanted to know what rules she would soon be breaking.

**17.**

Rule breaking did not come easily in this new, dark Hogwarts. Students were running scared and not given much opportunity to get organized. Though there was much grumbling in the Gryffindor common room no student had dared take that first step, no one had made that first act of truly bold defiance. The Carrows had been put in charge of all discipline at Hogwarts and the overt threat of the Cruciatus Curse had made it understandably difficult to muster up the courage for revolution.

And Ginny was getting frustrated.

"I know what you mean," Neville said, a scowl on his face as they walked around the perimeter of the lake. It was the only place they could go where they were sure they wouldn't be overheard; they didn't want to take any chances after Seamus had taken a hex to the face for muttering some choice words against the Carrows in what he thought was the relative security of a third floor corridor. Little did he know that certain professors were now stalking the hallway under Disillusionment Charms.

"Then if you know what I mean, what should we do about it?" Ginny said hotly. She didn't want to snap at Neville, and this certainly wasn't his fault, but she needed to vent her frustration somewhere. Fortunately he did not seem to mind.

"Someone needs to get a foothold," he said. "A stand needs to be taken. They can't go on getting away with this treatment."

"I suppose then that should be us," Luna said thoughtfully as she wrapped a daisy into the ends of her hair. "You can't expect the other teachers to do anything. They'll be carried off to Azkaban for it, which I imagine is far worse than detention."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Luna humming gently to herself, Neville and Ginny lost in thought. Finally, Neville spoke. "I just keep asking myself," he said quietly, "what Harry would do if he were here, or Ron or Hermione."

Ginny nodded. She had been asking herself that question quite a bit lately. "Well, I don't know exactly what they'd to," she said. "But I promise you that Harry would already be living in detention."

"You miss him, don't you?" Luna said quite suddenly.

Neville blushed and looked away. "I'd rather not talk about it, Luna, if that's all right," said Ginny. Luna just smiled and nodded.

Neville cleared his throat. "So. What do we do? Any ideas?"

"As a matter of fact," said Ginny with a grin. "If we are making plans to do something rebellious, then I did have one idea in mind." She took a deep breath. She had been thinking of this for quite some time, but it was a big step and carried big risk. "I want to take back the Sword of Gryffindor."

"The what?" Neville asked with a frown.

"The Sword of Gryffindor," Ginny repeated. "It's the sword Harry used to kill the basilisk down in the Chamber of Secrets."

Neville nodded in recognition; he had heard the story. "So where is it?" he asked.

Ginny swallowed hard. Here was the tricky part. "Er... it's in the Headmaster's Office."

She let that sink in.

"That should be very difficult," said Luna. "I do hope we survive."

Ginny nodded. "Aside from that," she added cautiously. "Dumbledore left it to Harry in his will."

Neville looked to her in surprise. "He did? How did you know-?"

"I don't think she wants to talk about it," Luna said to Neville in a loud whisper.

Inward, Ginny thanked Luna, but addressed Neville aloud. "So. What do you think?"

Neville nodded. "Snape has the Sword of Gryffindor," he said thoughtfully. "That doesn't seem right."

"No, it doesn't," Ginny agreed.

Neville gave a sharp, nervous exhalation. "All right. Let's do it." He looked back at Ginny. "But how are we supposed to get up there?"

**18.**

"Toffee eclairs."

"Good enough," said the gargoyle as it stepped aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase that led up to the Headmaster's Office.

"Come on!" hissed Ginny, and she jumped onto the staircase, Neville and Luna close behind her.

"Tell us again," Neville whispered to her, "how you knew that password?"

"Overheard it," Ginny said shortly, thinking back to the last time she had been in the office, when Dumbledore had been discussing with one of the Headmaster portraits on the wall changing the password from 'Acid Pops' to 'Toffee Eclairs'. She didn't much feel like explaining why she had broken into Dumbledore's Office that night to Neville and Luna, didn't care to discuss her meeting with Fawkes... and she didn't know whether nobody had bothered to change the password, or if Snape had tried to change it and the office wouldn't acknowledge it, or if the gargoyle had just let her through because he felt like it... no matter the reason, it had worked, and truthfully she had never doubted that it would.

They reached the big oak doors of the office above and gently pushed them open. They had seen Snape pass below downstairs but had no idea when he'd be back. Ginny again wished that she had had the foresight to get the Marauder's Map from Harry before he had left The Burrow, but there was no use crying over spilled Butterbeer.

The Headmaster's Office looked remarkably like it had the year before. The only differences Ginny could ascertain was the absence of Fawkes, and the addition of a large portrait of Dumbledore, sleeping peacefully above his old desk.

"INTRUDERS! ENCROACHERS! SOUND THE ALARM! SOUND THE -"

Ginny, Neville, and Luna had all spun towards the source of the disturbance, and though Ginny could not vouch for the other two, her heart was now residing in her throat. She had turned just in time to see two of the Headmasters leap out of their portraits and gang-tackle the screaming Headmaster in the portrait between them, bringing him to the ground. It was the portrait that Dumbledore had been discussing the new password with the last time Ginny had been in the office, and as he struggled to free himself from the other two Headmasters Ginny recognized him further. "I know you," she said, walking up to the portrait. "Your portrait hangs in Grimmauld Place."

The snide, waspish Headmaster shook his mouth free from the grip of the other two to say, "Not anymore!" before he was silenced again, and this time held fast.

"Not anymore?" Ginny asked. "What does that mean?"

"Quickly, girl!" said one the Headmasters from the other side of the room. "Do what you came to do and begone! Professor Snape returns!"

"Ginny!" hissed Neville from across the room. "Hurry up!"

Ginny turned to see Neville and Luna standing before the display case that held the Sword of Gryffindor. Neville was rattling a lock that was attached to the front of the case. "That wasn't there last time!" Ginny said, hurrying over. "Snape's on his way back! We have to get the sword out!"

"I have an idea," said Luna from behind them. Ginny and Neville turned back to look at her... and got out of the way just in time as she brought a chair smashing down on the display case, shattering it.

"That's one way to do it, I suppose," Ginny muttered, collecting the sword from the wreckage. "Come on, let's..."

"Miss Weasley." Ginny, Neville and Luna looked up to see the portrait of Dumbledore, awake and alert, looking down upon them. "Miss Weasley," he repeated, "you do not have to do this."

"No," she said, glancing at the doorway out, "I don't. But I'm doing it anyway."

"You do have a purpose in all of this, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore reminded her. "My memory is a bit foggy, but I do believe we discussed that."

"We did," Ginny said firmly, "and 'motivation' is all well and good, Professor. But I can't sit around here and do nothing." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"You do not need to be," said Professor Dumbledore's portrait with a kindly smile. "What you do need to be, however, is expedient. Quickly, before the Death Eaters arrive!"

"Right," Ginny said with a nod. She had the Sword of Gryffindor in hand now, and they were wasting time up here. Without another word the three of them headed out the door, moving quickly to get their prize to safety.

**19.**

"They're ours, Severus!" screamed Alecto. "The Dark Lord said-"

"The Ministry of Magic has seen fit to place me in charge of Hogwarts, Alecto," Snape said coolly, cutting off the Carrow's protestations. "I shall dole out punishments as I see fit."

"But-!"

"Or perhaps," Snape said, raising his voice and flexing his left forearm, "you would like to challenge the authority under which I act?"

Amycus and Alecto both shrank back at this, muttering their apologies as they quickly headed down the spiral stone staircase. Professor McGonagall, however, would not be as easily intimidated. "Really, Severus, I must insist you let me handle both of their punishments," she said with a nod to Ginny. "After all, they are both in my house, and..."

"Be thankful I gave you Longbottom, Minerva," said Snape, cutting her off. "And you and Filius both should be thankful I didn't leave the three of them to the Carrows, this time."

"But Severus-!"

"No more, Minerva!" Snape said threateningly. "Or have you forgotten who is Headmaster now?"

"By whose authority?" McGonagall said hotly. Ginny, standing behind Snape in the Headmaster's Office, raised an eyebrow to Neville, standing behind McGonagall through the oaken door frame. "By no authority recognized in this castle. You still haven't managed to get the gargoyle downstairs to accept your passwords, have you? I'll expect that's how this group of industrious young students were able to..."

"Enough!" said Snape. "I act under an authority you could not hope to understand!"

"Oh, I understand it just fine, Severus. And don't think you can cow me with a silly little mark under your left sleeve! I recognize no authority you bear!"

Snape drew his wand; McGonagall drew hers just as quickly. Ginny and Neville both jumped back as far as they could, desperately seeking cover. "You are far too bold, Minerva," Snape said quietly. "Someday it will get you into trouble you will not be able to magic your way out of, and we'll see who comes to your aid then."

"Help," Professor McGonagall said with a steely gaze usually reserved for misbehaving students, "will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it, Severus. Surely you haven't been so corrupted as to forget that?"

Snape glared at her, his lip trembling. "And I suppose you'll next tell me that Albus Dumbledore will not have truly left these halls until none who are loyal to him remain?"

"Something like that," McGonagall said to him with a stiff, quiet smile.

Without another word, Snape closed the oak doors on Professor McGonagall and Neville. He and Ginny were now alone in his office.

She did not speak, hardly dared to breathe. The Sword of Gryffindor lay on his desk, and the chair Luna used to shatter its case lay nearby. After several long moments spent facing the door and breathing heavily, Snape turned and waved his wand at the chair, causing it to spring up off the floor, mend itself, and set itself down facing his desk. "Sit," he commanded. With only a moment's hesitation, Ginny did so, never taking her eyes off of the Headmaster as he moved around to the other side of the desk and sat facing her. They stared at each other for several long moments. "Just what is it you were hoping to accomplish here tonight?" he finally asked her.

"The Sword of Gryffindor isn't yours," Ginny said hotly, sharper than she had intended to. "Professor Dumbledore left it, for Harry."

"Unfortunately for Mr. Potter, the sword was not Professor Dumbledore's to give."

"It's not yours to give either," Ginny snapped at him, wondering idly whether this conversation was worth risking a year's worth of detentions at the hands of the Carrows. "Unless you plan on taking it to Harry and apologizing for the misunderstanding."

"Now why didn't I think of that?" said Snape crossly. He stood up and strode around to gaze out the high window. "And where is our young Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley?"

There it was. The reason Ginny knew she had been kept behind while Neville and Luna had been released to their Heads of House: she was to be squeezed on information about Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Well, he was going to have a fight getting anything out of her. "Like I bloody well know where he is," she said stubbornly, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"You are... romantically involved with our little 'Chosen One', are you not?" Ginny could hear the disgust dripping of his voice, as if he couldn't even bear the thought of a pure-blood such as she associating herself with a Muggle-raised half-blood like Harry. Oh, he was a Death Eater through and through.

"We were," Ginny said defiantly. "Not anymore."

"So you have no idea where he is?"

"No, I don't."

"You're certain?"

"Well, he's not here, is he?"

Snape turned to her. "And what precisely is that supposed to mean?"

She opened her mouth to retort, but then thought about it. Truthfully, she didn't much know what she had meant by that; that last had come out without her really thinking about it. "I... I don't know," she answered truthfully.

Snape sat down in his chair, peered at her through his greasy black hair and over his long, pointed nose. Finally, he said thoughtfully, "Why, you think he's abandoned you, don't you? Left you and all of your little friends to rot here in Hogwarts while he runs off and hides, runs off and plays hero. That's what you think, don't you?"

"NO!" Ginny shouted loudly. "No, of course not! I mean..." she hesitated. "Not always, not much. Just..." Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "Maybe sometimes. A little."

Her eyes fell into her lap as shame coursed through her. She didn't really feel as she had said, not really. Just sometimes, on the days it was hardest, when the odds seemed terribly stacked against them all and when the nights were loneliest... sometimes she couldn't understand why Harry and her brother and her friend had left them like this. She knew there was a reason, but... well, she had never been told that reason, had she?

No. She hadn't. And sometimes that made it difficult to understand.

It seemed like ages before Snape spoke again. "You are a foolish, foolish little girl," he said with disgust. She looked up to see his eyes boring into her with an intensity that took her aback. He stared at her for a bit longer, and she did not speak, COULD not speak.

What Professor Snape said next was the last thing she could ever have expected.

"You will leave Hogwarts at the earliest possible convenience," he told her, getting to his feet.

"What?" Ginny asked, certain she had misheard.

"You are in danger here," he said to her, no longer looking at her, pacing around the office frenetically. "Your silly little dalliance with Mr. Potter has left you a target, left you vulnerable. You will serve your detention for tonight's stupidity in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid..."

"With Hagrid? But..."

"... and then you shall be transported back to The Burrow, where you shall remain. Is that understood?"

"No!" cried Ginny, shaking her head. "No! I won't leave everyone behind, not when..." she didn't know what to say. He hated them. He was a Death Eater. Why was he doing this?

"You will leave! You will leave as soon as you are able!" Snape repeated, his voice rising and his face growing red. He was staring at Ginny, staring THOUGH her, and Ginny could not shake the feeling that he was looking at something else entirely.

But she would not leave Hogwarts. She would not leave her friends. "I'm not going anywhere!" she said back to him.

"You will!" he yelled at her. "I will keep you safe!"

"I will not!" she shouted back.

"I will keep you safe!"

"I don't need your help!"

"I WILL KEEP YOU SAFE, LILY!"

Ginny took in a sharp breath. For a moment of heartbeats the silence hung in the air, deafening. "Professor?" Ginny said quietly, tentatively. "My name's... my name's not Lily."

Snape stared at her for another moment, not comprehending. Then he started; he seemed to realize what he had just said. He looked wildly around the room and his gaze settled on the portrait of Dumbledore above the Headmaster's Desk. Ginny looked up to it as well.

Dumbledore was crying silently as he gazed down upon Professor Snape.

"Get out," Snape whispered to her over his shoulder.

Ginny was trembling. "Professor? Are... are you... ?"

Snape spun to face her, his wand pointed at her forehead. "I should _Obliviate _your mind back to its infancy!" he snarled. "Now get out, and never speak of this again, to anyone! Do you understand? DO YOU?"

Ginny just nodded dumbly, staring at the faintly glowing tip of his wand. "GET OUT!" he bellowed again, and Ginny turned and ran, through the oak doors, down the spiral staircase, past the gargoyle and through the halls of the castle, not stopping until she had reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, her brain trying desperately to understand what had just happened... and why Severus Snape had just fallen back in time and pledged to keep Lily Potter safe.

**20.**

As it turned out, Hagrid's idea of detention was a roaring fire in a clearing of the Forest, with bangers and rock cakes. Watching Neville smile as broadly as he was at Hagrid's off-color jokes about various portions of Snape's anatomy only served to drive home to Ginny how rarely Neville smiled these days, how rarely any of them did, really.

Try as she might to ignore their current reality, though, she could not help but continue to dwell on her meeting with Snape. "Hagrid," she said suddenly; she had a question that had just occurred to her, and she knew it would be out of the blue, but… "when Snape was at school, I mean… when he was a Hogwarts student… did he know Harry's mother?"

"Lily?" Hagrid asked, surprised. Luna and Neville looked at her, surprise apparent on their faces as well. It was as odd a question as she could have asked right at that moment, if you didn't know why she had asked it. "I think 'e did," Hagrid said, rubbing his chin with his massive hand. "I seem to remem'ber 'em bein' friends, now you mention it. 'Course, that was firs' year an' such. When Snape started hangin' roun' wit' them future Death Eaters… well, Lily Evans wouldn'ta been fond o' that. An' when she started hangin' round wit' James…" Hagrid let out a low chuckle. "Snape wouldn'ta liked that much, I don' s'pose."

"No," Ginny said quietly, staring at the fire, trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together in her head. "I don't suppose he would have."

"Why'd you ask?"

"No reason, really," Ginny said carefully. Why she felt beholden to keep Snape's outburst a secret she could never tell, but she did. "Just seems a bit of irony that they all knew each other when they were this age, doesn't it? All thing considered now."

"Some irony," muttered Neville. "Makes you wonder if Malfoy might be capable of some real damage some day."

"Oh no," Luna said. "I don't think so. He talks dangerously, but I really do think he's very afraid."

"I would be too, if I had 'is friends," said Hagrid, and Neville and Luna nodded their agreement. Ginny, though, was left with a thought she did not know what to do with: Malfoy had been supposed to kill Dumbledore, to hear Harry tell it, but Snape did it instead when Draco couldn't, or wouldn't. It made her wonder not what Malfoy was capable of doing, but what he was incapable of doing. Now if she could only figure out how to make use of that thought… but if wishes were Galleons…

**21.**

"Everyone knows about it," Seamus mumbled to them. "You lot had the right idea."

"We want to help," Parvati said, and Lavender and Michael nodded eagerly.

"And," chimed in Terry Boot, "there are others, too."

"But we didn't even get the sword," Ginny pointed out, looking nervously towards the doors to the castle, wishing for about the thousandth time Harry had left the Maruader's Map with them. If they were caught out here, out on the grounds and after curfew…

"It's the effort that counts, doesn't it?" said Neville eagerly. "And then it was just the three of us."

"Now we can be Dumbledore's Army again!" Luna said to Ginny as the others nodded fervently. "Remember? You came up with the name, after all."

Ginny looked at the others, looked to Neville. "You're sure about this?" she asked. "We got off light last time, you know."

"I'm sure if you are," Neville said. "We all do this together or we don't do it at all."

Ginny nodded and grinned. "Good," she said, "because I have a few ideas."

**22.**

"Who… ?" sputtered Snape, looking around the Great Hall. "Who… who is responsible? I demand an explanation! WHO?"

"Why, Severus, I should think it's quite obvious," Professor McGonagall said calmly and clearly, not bothering to look up from her breakfast. She gestured to the ten-foot tall letters adorning the walls in flashing blue, red, and yellow. "From what I can gather, it was Dumbledore's Army, and they are still recruiting."

It took everything Ginny had not to laugh at McGonagall's comment, and it took everything else she had not to look up and sneak a satisfied glance at Neville, Seamus, Luna, or any of the six others who had joined her to redecorate the hall the evening prior. If this was to work, they could never speak of it aloud during the day. The walls had ears.

As Professor Snape and the Carrows continued to walk up and down between the tables and demand an explanation for the graffiti, Ginny reached into her pocket and squeezed her D.A. Galleon tightly. Fortunately, the walls didn't know everything.

**23.**

"I heard he was spotted on London Bridge three nights ago, dueling the Minister of Magic!" Terry Boot said excitedly, leaning over the Gryffindor table and holding his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ up.

"Such rubbish," said Parvati. "Why would he bother with that, when we all know You-Know-Who is in charge? I heard he's searching for the Lost Relics of Merlin."

"What are you, daft?" Seamus said with a laugh. "Those don't exist. What next, Harry's out and about lookin' for Excalibur, or the Wand o' Destiny?" This drew a laugh from the rest of the table, Parvati included, but then there was a loud BANG! and Terry yelped in pain, leaping in the air and dropping his copy of the the _Prophet_ on the table in front of Ginny.

"Back to yer table, Ravenclaw!" yelled Amycus Carrow, moving quickly down the aisle, and Terry ran back to the Ravenclaw table.

Neville's face grew red and he reached for his wand; "Not now, Neville!" hissed Lavender, and Neville withdrew his empty hand from his pocket, engaging in a brief staredown with the male Carrow before the latter slowly turned away and headed back towards the staff table.

As much as she didn't like seeing Terry Boot hurt, Ginny was almost (almost) grateful for the Carrow brother's change of topic. Far too often conversation around Hogwarts turned to Harry and Ron and Hermione and speculation regarding where they were and what they were doing, and it was almost always inevitable, despite Neville and Luna running interference, that somebody would ask her what she knew. And while she contested to herself that she knew little more than everyone else, she had fairly heard it from the thestral's mouth that they had run off on a secret Dumbledore-ordered mission to kill Voldemort… and if she let that slip, it would be a matter of mere seconds before news like THAT spread all over Hogwarts, and probably all over England.

The conversation had turned, though, with the emergence of the Carrow, and nobody was looking at her for the moment. She looked down at the newspaper that Terry had dropped in front of her and her heart leaped; staring up at her, with the words "Undesirable No. 1" above his face, was Harry.

She looked left, and looked right. Nobody was watching. And when they all got up from lunch, _The Daily Prophet_ still sat at her spot of the table.

It was, however, missing its front page.

**24.**

It was late, past two in the morning. The last students had cleared out of the common room by midnight, and since then Ginny had sat up, in the glow of the dying fireplace embers, gazing at the page she had surreptitiously ripped off of the cover of _The Daily Prophet_. The image of Harry under the headline 'Undesirable No. 1' stared off the page at some unseen horizon, impassive, occasionally blinking, but showing no sign of acknowledging she, the reader. In a fit of schoolgirl childishness she had hexed the prefix 'Un-' off of the word 'Undesirable', and she had blotted out the rest of the words on the page as well; she had no use for the lies the _Prophet _saw fit to print these days.

Some more rational, jaded portion of her brain, the portion she usually listened to, tried to remind her again how silly and foolish she would look to anyone entering the common room, sitting and staring as she was at a photograph of an ex-boyfriend for hours on end. She pushed that portion of her brain aside, though, at least for the night. It had been a trying year already and it was nowhere near over; beside, it was almost Christmas. She would allow herself this moment of weakness.

**25.**

"Wait," Ginny asked. "Are we stopping?"

The others in the compartment ceased talking, the plans for the chaos the D.A. would next deliver unto Hogwarts when they returned after Christmas momentarily forgotten as the Hogwarts Express ground to a halt, an eerie silence descending up and down the corridors. Through their compartment window they could see other students getting up and opening their own compartment doors, murmuring nervously to each other.

Neville turned to Ginny. "What do you think is going-"

He never finished the thought as the glass of their compartment doors exploded, showering them with pieces. Lavender screamed as they all jumped to the far side of the cart, and the doors to the compartment banged open. Standing there were three Death Eaters. Ginny recognized one as Yaxley, and the other two hugely muscled ones were clearly enforcers. Ginny scrambled to reach her wand, but Yaxley quickly raised his. "Uh-uh-uh, pretty one," he said tauntingly. "We're not here for you today."

At this, the largest of the three, his body covered in tattoos, reached down and grabbed Luna, pulling her to her feet. "No!" shouted Neville, as they all tried to extricate themselves from the jumbled mess of limbs they had become. "Take me instead!"

"Noble," said Yaxley, taking Luna's wrist. "But your father doesn't run a lying, slanderous newspaper, does he?"

"You're mistaken," Luna said calmly. "My father doesn't print the _Prophet,_ he prints the _Quibbler_."

The third Death Eater chuckled. "That's a right good one, that is," he said, elbowing his fellows. They did not look amused. He fell silent.

"See you soon, kiddies," said Yaxley, and with a hand locked firmly on Luna's wrist he twisted in his spot, the other two following suit, all three Disapparating away even as Neville and Michael Corner leaped for them, trying to grab them but simply sailing right through the place where they had been.

"Is everyone all right?" They all looked up from the floor to see Professor Slughorn, charged with keeping the train safe on the trip back to King's Cross, standing over them, panting and wheezing. "What happened?" he asked, completely befuddled. "Where did all this glass come from?"

Ginny just closed her eyes. It felt as if a lead weight had been dropped into her stomach. Nowhere was safe.

**26.**

Ginny pulled her sweater tighter around her as she sat in the front yard of The Burrow. The sun ducked in and out in the breaks between the clouds and there was a chill in the air from the brisk wind.

"Ginny?" her mother called to her, poking her head out the door. "Ginny, are you all right, dear?"

"I'm fine, mum," Ginny called back. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, come in. You'll catch cold."

"In a minute." Her mother went back inside and Ginny returned her gaze to the series of hills rising off in the distance. Luna's home was over there, somewhere, although she had never been there. She regretted that now, and felt a desperate yearning to go see the place where the oddest and most honest of the people she knew was from. She hoped against hope that her chance hadn't passed her by.

She took a breath and sighed deeply. The Lovegood's wasn't the only thing out there, somewhere. Somewhere out there was her brother, and Hermione... and Harry.

Harry.

She wondered what they were up to. She wondered when she'd hear from them. There had been bits and pieces; apparently Lupin had run into the three of them at Grimmauld Place not long after the wedding but had not told her father for quite some time. As Ginny gathered, there had been a rather large argument about that, and she couldn't imagine why Professor Lupin would keep that to himself.

That was August. It was now December, three days after Christmas. The trail had long since grown cold, and she only knew what everyone else knew, from rumor and worrying and hearsay.

That wasn't true, she corrected herself. She did know one other thing. She knew their mission involved hunting down and killing Voldemort. But Voldemort was still out there, wasn't he? Which meant that Harry and the others hadn't succeeded, not yet. Of course, if THEY were dead, she was certain everyone would have heard about it, as such news would constitute the final break in the back of the wizarding world. So she was fairly certain they were alive. That was something, anyway.

She stood up; her mother was right, she was getting chilly... but she didn't think that was entirely because of the weather. She took one last look at the hills in the distance. "Be careful out there," she whispered to the breeze, and then she turned and walked into the relative safety of The Burrow.

If anyone had heard her plea, they did not reply.


	27. Chapter 26: The Deathly Hallows Part 2

**1.**

The three of them tore around a corner and past a suit of armor, their attempt at vandalizing the Muggle Studies classroom abandoned hastily. Ginny swore as she ran, thinking for the umpteenth time how much better off they would have been had Harry left the Marauder's Map with them, fairly confident yet that they had escaped before being identified...

"_CRUCIO!_" howled a voice from behind them, and Lavender screamed and fell to the floor, her body skidding to a stop and writhing in the throes of the Cruciatus Curse. Ginny wheeled and raised her wand, but she was so taken aback that their pursuer would use an Unforgivable that she momentarily locked up.

Neville, however, did not.

"_LEVICORPUS!_" he yelled, and Amycus Carrow, just rounding the corner at the far end of the corridor, was flipped up off of the floor and into the air, his ankle held aloft by some invisible force. His focus was shattered and Lavender stopped screaming and lay still. Hanging upside down, Amycus turned his wand towards Neville. "_CRUCI..._"

"_SECTUMSEMPRA!_" cried Neville.

'Professor' Carrow immediately shifted his wand into a defensive position, but he wasn't fast enough and the sleeve of his robe shredded into pieces as an angry gash ripped open on the length of his wand arm. He howled in agony and fell to the floor, the levitation charm broken.

Neville was not through. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" he bellowed, and bursting forth from his wand tip in a blast of pure white light came a series of glowing vines, followed by a pair of leafy, vicious-looking fangs. The vines writhed down the hall towards the suddenly screaming Carrow, and though Ginny couldn't remember ever seeing a Patronus have any sort of harmful effect on a human being that didn't stop Amycus from turning with a scream and running away from the great grinning pod of light.

Ginny had seen a lot of Patronuses in her young life, but Neville's giant venus fly trap was a new one on her.

With the screams of the Carrow brother fading into the distance, Neville and Ginny ran over to help Lavender to her feet. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly, but nevertheless she managed meekly, "Did... did you get him?"

"Don't worry, Lavender," Ginny assured her. "He was got, thoroughly." Ginny threw a questioning glance at Neville. He shrugged.

"I don't like the Cruciatus Curse," he said.

"Clearly," Ginny replied. She threw one of Lavender's arms over her shoulder; on the other side of her Neville did the same. "Come on," said Ginny, "let's get back to the portrait before we're missed, if it isn't too late already."

**2.**

"I know it were you, girl, in that hallway! I saw yer hair!" Amycus screamed at her, drawing nervous glances from the rest of the Great Hall. Ginny just stared ahead resolutely, refusing to look at any of her friends lest she implicate them, refusing to acknowledge the face next to her cheek, huffing and puffing with the stench of hot, wet onion. "If ya'd like to keep that hair, I suggest ya tell me what I wanna know!" Amycus threatened in a low voice. "I've made examples of far better witches'n ye before, girlie!"

"What seems to be the trouble, _Professor _Carrow?"

Carrow straightened up and turned to Professor McGonagall, who had descended from the staff table and stood over him with his arms folded. "Don't you get in my way, Minerva!" he growled. "Students were vandalizing the Muggle Studies classroom last night and this girl was with 'em!"

"Miss Weasley is in MY house, and she was in bed," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "I did the bed check myself." If Ginny felt any surprise at her Head of House lying so neatly for her she did nothing to betray it.

"She was not!" Professor Carrow hollered, getting bright red in the face. "She was in the hallways, flippin' me upside down an' throwin' glowin' plants at me!"

"It sounds as if you merely encountered Peeves as opposed to a student breaking curfew," Professor McGonagall calmly observed. "An understandable mistake, but do please take care to distinguish between the living and the dead in the future."

Professor Carrow seemed inclined to protest some more, but after another hard scowl in Ginny's direction he merely stalked out of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall turned to Ginny. "Peeves isn't actually 'dead', if you want to be technical about it," she said. "He's a spirit of mischief. Came with the castle. One can't be dead if one was never alive, after all. Do be more careful in the future, won't you Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, Professor." With a curt little nod of her own, McGonagall turned and returned to the staff table without another word.

**3.**

Ginny ran quickly down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder as she went. "This way!" said her guide, Colin Creevy. "We have him in here!" Colin pushed open the door to the boy's bathroom and stepped inside, Ginny closely behind him. They walked into a stand-off. Neville and Terry Boot had their wands drawn, pointed in the direction of Draco Malfoy, his own wand out. As soon as Ginny and Colin entered, Colin drew his wand as well, adding it to Terry's and Neville's.

"Here he is, Gin," Neville said. "Not that I can figure out why you want to speak to this ferret."

"Haven't you lot played the 'ferret' bit out yet?" Draco sneered.

"It's still got some funny left in it, mate," Terry said with a grin, although the whitened knuckles around his wand betrayed his nervousness. Ginny couldn't blame him; they were surely asking for a particularly painful detention by holding a Slytherin hostage.

She had asked them to trap Draco Malfoy for her. She couldn't ask them to do any more. "Neville, Terry, Colin... you can go."

Terry and Colin glanced at her in surprise, but Neville didn't take his eyes off of Malfoy. "What are you talking about, Ginny?" he asked.

"I need to talk to Malfoy," Ginny said. "That's all. Talk."

"Funny way of showing it, blood traitor," said Malfoy. Neville raised his wand higher but Ginny put her hand on his arm, gently lowering it back to where it had been, still pointing at Malfoy but not quite so aggressively.

"It's all right," she said. "There's nothing he can say that will bother me."

"Ginny, I don't like this..."

"Neville, trust me," said Ginny. "Please."

Neville looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "All right," he said, and then lowered his voice so Malfoy wouldn't hear her. "Whatever it is you have to do, though, make it quick. Hagrid's one-man Harry Potter support party won't last as a distraction for much longer."

"I'll be fast," she assured him.

Neville nodded. "Colin, Terry... go ahead."

"You sure, Neville?" asked Colin.

"Yeah, go," Neville said. "Get back to your common rooms." Colin and Terry quickly turned and exited the bathroom. After they had left, Neville began to back out slowly, his wand never lowering. When he was gone, Ginny turned back to Malfoy. His wand was leveled at her. She had never expected otherwise.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said quietly.

"Why shouldn't I hex you where you stand?" Malfoy snapped at her.

"Because I don't think you want to," Ginny said calmly. "I think you're curious. I think you want to hear what I have to say."

"I could care less what you have to say, Weaselette."

"Then go ahead. Hex me. Full body-bind, perhaps? Jelly-legs? Or something darker, maybe?"

Malfoy held his wand pointed at Ginny's forehead for a full thirty seconds longer. Then he lowered it. "Well?" he asked. "What is it?"

Ginny thought for a moment. Now that they had reached this point she wasn't quite sure how to start. "You don't like me," she settled on.

"What was your first clue?"

"You don't like me, and I don't like you. Our fathers don't much care for each other either. I supposed our mutual dislike begins there. But," she continued, "you also don't care for those I associate with, do you?"

Malfoy snorted. "If you mean your little pet Potter and his Mudblood friend Granger..."

"I'm not here to hex you, Malfoy," Ginny said hotly, "but call Hermione 'Mudblood' one more time and you'll really test my patience."

"Go head and try it," Malfoy sneered, his wand rising up again.

Ginny sighed, composing herself. "I'm not here for this, I'm really not. And would you lower that, please? You see I don't have mine drawn, do I?" Malfoy again lowered his wand, reluctantly. "So. You don't like my friends," Ginny continued. "And I don't much like yours."

"I'm sure Crabbe and Goyle will be very hurt," Malfoy said.

"I didn't mean them," Ginny said. "Although I'm not crazy about them, either. I meant your other friends. Your father's friends." She looked him in the eye. "The ones who joined you on the Astronomy Tower last year."

At this Malfoy's features hardened even more and his face went even paler. "I don't know what you're talking about," he spat.

"Are you certain?" Ginny asked. "Because I heard differently, from a very reliable source. I heard you were there, Malfoy. And I heard you couldn't do what it is you were sent to do that night."

Malfoy's face had gone from pale to red with fury. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he said angrily. "You don't know anything!"

"I don't know as much as you likely do, no," Ginny agreed. "But I know a few things. I know that you're a lot of things, Malfoy. Unlikable, pompous, a ferret..." His wand was in her face now, but she was undeterred. "You're also not a fool," she said, and if a hex had been waiting on his lips it remained unsaid in his surprise at this compliment. "You're also not a killer," Ginny said quietly. "Which is actually to your credit, I think, no matter what your Death Eater friends tell you."

"What are you playing at?" Malfoy said warily. "What's your bloody point?"

"My point is this," said Ginny, preparing her endgame. "Your friends are looking for my friends. If my friends are found by your friends, awful things will happen to them. You may be there for that, Malfoy, no matter how remote the odds of that are. If you are, though, if you ever find yourself in a position to help Harry, or Hermione or my brother or anyone else, to keep them safe... I want you to do it. To help them."

Malfoy laughed out loud. "Are you mad?" he asked. "This is what you wanted to talk to me about? Why would I do that, you stupid girl?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you're not a killer. Maybe you actually care what happens to your own soul. Maybe you're as terrified of your friends as everyone else is. And maybe, just maybe, there's a part of you somewhere that wants Harry to win."

They stared at each other a few seconds more. Ginny knew it was time to go; she had been too long already. She had one final point, though, and she began it as she backed towards the door. "Remember this, Draco: Harry would save you, given the chance. He would and you know it. But if you have the chance to help him, or my brother or Hermione, and you pass it up, and I find out..." she shook her head. "I will hunt you down and do to you what he never would. That's a promise."

She slipped out the door and ran down the hallway. She had already turned two corners before she heard Malfoy shouting for others to come help him catch her. It may have been her imagination, but it seemed he wasn't trying very hard to pursue her.

**4.**

"Back off, Zabini," Ginny growled threateningly. "I'm warning you. After all, wouldn't want your Slytherin cronies to know you got so close to a filthy blood-traitor like me."

"I wouldn't worry," Zabini said, drawing closer to her. Her eyes darted to her wand, halfway down the hallway next to a suit of armor where it had landed after Zabini's Disarming Charm. Silently, she swore viciously to herself; how could he have let him get the drop on her like that? "These are new days, Ginevra. Slytherins can take whatever they want, whenever they want. No questions asked."

Ginny took a step back, pressing up against a shelf of vases and urns. She moved her hand behind her as surreptitiously as possible, reaching for a makeshift club. "Is that so?" she sneered at him, trying to keep him focused on her face and away from her hands. "Well, things change. Besides, I find you odious."

Zabini's mouth curled up in a tight little smile. "Things change," he said. Stepping back, he drew his wand and pointed it at Ginny. "_IMPERIO!_"

Zabini's wand emitted a pathetic little puff of smoke and nothing more. Ginny brought her arms down from where she had thrown them up to cover her face. "Come on, Zabini," she taunted. "You can't do better than that? Don't you know you really have to mean it?"

A look of furious anger crossed Zabini's face. He raised his wand again and Ginny got ready to dive behind the nearest standing suit of armor for cover.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Zabini's body seized up and his wand fell from his grip as his eyes went wide. He tipped slowly to one side until with a resounding CRASH! his rigid form landed on the ground.

"Dunno if you heard, mate, but she has a boyfriend," Seamus said with a grin as he walked down the corridor with Neville, both of their wands still trained on Zabini.

"And I don't think you want to cross him," Neville added. He looked up at Ginny. "Are you all right, Gin?"

"Yeah," she said, trying to settle herself down, shaking now that the initial rush of adrenaline was gone.

"You're sure?" Seamus asked, sounding concerned.

"One second," Ginny said, walking down the hall to retrieve her wand and then returning to Zabini's fallen form, kneeling next to his face. His eyes were spinning wildly to look at her; she thought about the curse he had just tried to cast on her and about what his intentions with her might have been had he managed to Imperius her. She shoved her wand directly under his nose, hard. "_Chiroptera Mucosa,_" she hissed. Instantly, great green bat-monsters began tugging their way out of Zabini's nose; climbing over his petrified form and clawing at his face. Zabini could not scream, could not run, could not swat them away. He had no choice but to lay on the floor and allow the bat-bogey creatures to fight and flap around him.

"Subtle," Seamus said to her.

"Could care less," she said with a shrug. She looked up at Neville and Seamus, both of whom were still admiring her handiwork. "Thanks, you two," she said sincerely. "That one was close."

They both nodded. "Come on," Seamus said, turning his back on the motionless form of Zabini. "Let's get back to the common room." Neville and Ginny joined him, jogging quickly down the hall and leaving Zabini and his new friends behind.

"One more thing," Ginny reminded the other two as they went. "I don't actually have a boyfriend. Harry and I broke up, remember?"

Seamus and Neville both laughed. "Sure," Seamus said. "As if that was for real."

"It was!" Ginny protested. Meekly.

Neville chuckled. "Right. And I'm a Death Eater."

Ginny decided not to argue the point further. After all, she would never admit it, but she silently agreed with them. She only hoped Harry did, as well.

**5.**

"You're sure, Neville?" Parvati asked with concern. "Staying here over Easter, by yourself?"

"'Course," Neville said with a shrug. "I'm not going to be here by myself, though; that's why I'm staying. Someone's got to look out for the students who aren't going home for Easter, make sure they survive the Carrows over the break."

"Why somebody would stay is beyond me, honestly," muttered Lavender, but Seamus shook his head.

"Some of 'em aren't choosin' to stay, Lav," he reminded her. "People's parents are disappearing, too."

"We could stay with you," Ginny suggested to Neville for the hundredth time, and the rest of the D.A. nodded earnestly.

"No," Neville said resolutely. "You should all go home and see your families. There's not so much going on here that more than one of us is needed."

That was that. Everyone said their goodbyes and one-by-one the Gryffindor members of Dumbledore's Army filed out of the common room, trunks in tow and headed for Easter break. Ginny, though, lingered. "Nev," she said, reaching for his arm as he turned to walk up the stairs to the boys dorm. "I just want you to know, you've been very brave. Leading us."

Neville shook his head fervently. "I haven't," he insisted. "If anything, you..."

"... spend far too much time worrying about my brother and Harry, and Hermione, to really lead anyone," Ginny said with a soft smile. "It's all right, it is what it is. But you've..." she shook her head, at a loss for words. "You've been brilliant, Nev. You really have. Your Gran would be proud of you. I'm proud of you, we're all proud of you. Proud to... you know... be your friend, and cause general mayhem and disruption with you." She grinned. "Harry would approve, I think."

Neville was blushing beet red and grinning ear-to-eat. "Thanks, Ginny," he said. "That's... that's... well, thanks." She reached up and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before taking hold of her trunk and walking towards the portrait hole. "Ginny," Neville called after her. She turned to him. "Harry's all right, you know," he said. "I mean, I don't know, but... he is. He and Ron and Hermione. I can feel it. I know they are, I can feel it."

She nodded and smiled. It was her turn now to wipe fiercely at her eye. "Thanks, Nev," she said hoarsely. "I think so too."

As she walked down the corridor towards the entrance hall the tears flowed freely. She hoped Neville was right, and loathe though she sometimes was to admit it, she missed them desperately, missed Harry desperately, probably more than was entirely healthy.

**6.**

Her bedroom door opened with a BANG! and her mother cried, "Ginny! Now! We have to go NOW!"

Ginny was awake in a flash, grabbing for her wand lying next to her bed and her packed bag next to the door. Shoving her feet into her slippers she ran down the steps to the kitchen, barreling into George as he and Fred hurried for the back door, which was being held open by...

"Bill?" Ginny asked, blinking the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes. "Bill, what's going on?"

"No time, Ginny," said her father from behind her, still dressed as he had been when she had gone to bed and carrying a rucksack of his own. He rushed her out the door and Bill closed it behind them; her mother and Fred and George were already in the yard.

"Now when we clear the front gate and past the protective enchantments, we'll have to Apparate immediately," Bill said as he strode quickly towards the gate. "They may already be waiting."

"If they are, they won't wait for long," her father said grimly. "I'll take Ginny."

"No," said Bill, "you'll have to go first and begin setting the enchantments. I'll take her. Go, dad, now!"

Arthur nodded and quickly strode out of the gate, already turning and disappearing the instant he had crossed the border. Fred and George followed suit, and Bill turned to their mother. "Your turn, mum," he said, smiling.

"I'm going last," Mrs. Weasley said firmly.

"Mum..."

"William, I will wait until my children are out of harm's way and that's all there is to it! Now go!"

Bill and Ginny glanced at each other; they knew there was no sense arguing. "Quickly, Gin, quickly," Bill urged. Ginny reached out and took his arm. Together they stepped through the gates of The Burrow and turned and vanished; just before the constriction of Apparition sucked out her breath she was sure she saw black-cloaked figures racing towards them but it may have been her imagination. Just when the sensation was becoming unbearable (she so greatly preferred flying to this) she and Bill landed, hard.

Ginny took in a deep breath and looked around. They were outside in what seemed at first glance to be a wide meadow but what she quickly realized was the front yard of an old-style country estate: they were at Auntie Muriel's. Pacing the perimeter of the grounds she could make out the figure of her father, waving his wand and muttering incantations; the air around him seemed to flicker and spark.

With a POP! their mother appeared next to them. "They were coming," she said, her breath ragged in the moonlight. "They were coming."

"I saw them, too," said Bill. "Dad's already casting the spells." Without another word, Mrs. Weasley drew her wand and ran towards her husband, ready to assist.

"Come on, inside," Bill said to Ginny, turning and ushering her towards the house; Fred and George were standing on the front porch with Auntie Muriel, in her bed robe and agitated as ever.

"Heavens to Merlin, William, what in the world is the meaning of this?" she said as Bill and Ginny joined the three of them. "All hours of the night, traipsing in and out, how would you explain..."

"I'm terribly sorry, Auntie Murial," Bill said graciously, "but we should really get inside. After you, please."

Bill held the door for their great-aunt and she nodded at his courtesy, sweeping grandly into her home. Fred glanced at Bill as the Weasley siblings entered behind her. "That's how you shut her up, eh? Being nice. Now why didn't we think of that?"

The all retreated to the sitting room, from where they could see their mother and father continuing to place protective enchantments around the perimeter of the grounds. "Bill, what's going on?" George asked as soon as they had all gotten settled.

Bill had not sat down, but was already moving towards the door. He stopped and exhaled loudly before saying, "Ron, Harry, Hermione, and a random lot of people have just Apparated into Shell Cottage."

"What?" asked Fred.

"Where did they come from?" asked George.

"Are they all right?" cried Ginny.

"They had been captured and broke free," Bill said. Ginny's heart skipped a beat. "We haven't exactly sorted it all out yet, but they were being held by Death Eaters. Whether or not Snatchers grabbed them first, we don't know, but they definitely came from Malfoy Manor."

"What about You-Know-Who?" George asked.

Bill shook his head. "I don't think he was involved. But now they know that Ron is with Harry, which means..."

"None of us are safe anymore," George said grimly.

"I'm sorry, I must have missed the part where we were safe BEFORE this," said Fred to his twin.

Ginny didn't care about any of this, though. "Are they all right?" she demanded again.

"I heard you, Gin," Bill said, turning to her.

"Then answer!"

Bill smiled in spite of the situation. "They're alive, and fine. Well, there is a dead house elf..."

"A what?" asked Fred, clearly confused.

"I don't understand, either," Bill said, shaking his head. "I'll need to try and get more answers out of them. I have to go, though. I have to get back." He looked to Ginny again, a half-smile again forming on his lips. "Don't worry, though, Gin. Harry's all right."

He left the room, his traveling cloak sweeping behind him. Fred and George both looked to their sister. "Good to hear, eh, Gin?" Fred asked with a smirk.

Ginny didn't even pretend to hide it, closing her eyes and nodding as she sank back into her seat, suddenly shaking uncontrollably. "Yes, it is," she said quietly. "It certainly is."

"A dead house elf," she heard her Auntie Muriel say. "What a waste. Some of these new-magic wizarding families just don't know how to take care of their things."

**7.**

"... bloody well may have stolen it, for all I know. Waiting for me to die off..." Auntie Muriel's voice disappeared with her up the staircase, her tiara clutched in her hands.

"Charming, eh?" Fred muttered to Bill. "All in all, we'd prefer to live with the goblin."

"Don't be so sure of that," Bill said, turning to look back at the rest of the family. "Fleur's about ready to throw him out and be done with it."

"He is not a pleasant fellow," Mr. Ollivander's voice added from the seat he had been led to, weak but sure.

"An unpleasant goblin?" George said in mock surprise. "Who would have known?"

"Bill, won't you sit?" their mum pleaded, getting up from her plate and hastening to find a new chair. "Join us for dinner!"

Bill shook his head. "Can't, mum. Sorry. Fleur will worry if I don't come home straight away."

"How are things with your... other... guests?" their father asked, and this is where not only Ginny's ears perked up but those of everyone at the table.

Bill, again, shook his head. "Still playing this close to the chest. Harry won't say anything, and Ron and Hermione are following his lead." He frowned. "There's something different about Harry, though. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something. Fleur agrees."

"He's been through enough. And how are the other two getting along?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "The poor dears."

"Dean and Luna? Well enough, I suppose. They're perfectly polite. Fleur thinks there may be something there, you know, but I'm not sure. I'm not a great judge of such things."

"Something there?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"A love connection, Arthur," their mother said with a smile, drawing forth the raucous laughter of Fred and George. "Oh, hush, you two! It's very sweet."

"Oh, very," Fred said with a grin. "What do you think, Gin? Is it very sweet?"

"I couldn't care less, Fred," Ginny said, and meant it.

George winked at her. "I'll bet you couldn't," he said; their parents looked confusedly back and forth at each other and Ginny lost herself in her plate, annoyed at the twins but desperately hoping that Bill would share more news of Harry.

"I'd best be off, then," said Bill, much to the protestations of their mother. "No, really, mum, I have to, I'm sorry. Mr. Ollivander, take care," he said, grasping the wandmaker's hand.

"I shall, William," said Mr. Ollivander, gripping Bill's hand heartily. "And thank you so for your kindness, you and your lovely wife."

Bill nodded to him with a smile and headed to the door with their father. "Don't worry, dad," he said as he opened it. "I'll try to get some more information out of Harry. The more we know, the better we'll be able to help him on whatever 'mission' it is Dumbledore's set him on."

"Tell him we're all on his side," their father urged. "Remind him of that."

"Send my love!" Ginny called out. Everybody turned to look at her; the twins looked fit to burst and even Bill gave her a small smile. "To all of them," Ginny hastened to explain. "All three of them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. And Harry."

"You said Harry," her mother reminded her, looking at her curiously.

"I did, and Ron and Hermione," said Ginny. "What?" She looked back down to her dinner, absorbing herself in it, trying to fight back the blushing.

"Tell them we all said hello, Bill, of course," their father said as he ushered Bill out the door.

"Right," said Bill. "Stay safe, everyone."

Then he was gone. A silence hung over the room for several long seconds.

"I hope Ron appreciates your love," said Fred.

Ginny was made to wash the dishes for hitting Fred in the face with her entire serving of mashed potatoes. _Completely worth it_, she thought as she scrubbed.

**8.**

She sat glumly in her aunt's old maroon armchair, her legs dangling over the side and her head back against the cushion, staring miserably at the clipping of Harry's face she had cut from the Daily Prophet back at school. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take it, frankly, sitting around, hiding and waiting for something, ANYthing, to happen. It had been made a little easier these past few weeks, knowing that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were safely at Bill and Fleur's, but now Bill had come by the day before to tell them that the three of them would be off again the next morning on the next stage of their 'mission.' While Ginny knew how important whatever-it-was-they-were-doing must be, she again had that unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had been walking around with for months, knowing that people she loved were out there somewhere with no idea if they were safe.

In her other hand she grasped tightly onto her DA Galleon; she had promised Neville she'd contact him if she received any news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's whereabouts or any other news from the Order. Her parents had decided to risk leaving Auntie Murial's that night for Shell Cottage, where the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix were meeting to determine what their next move might be and to try and discern what Harry and the others might be up to.

She had taken to carrying her D.A. Galleon with her at all times; the updates she had been receiving from Neville about what was going on at Hogwarts since her failure to return after Easter was becoming steadily more alarming. His messages were cryptic aside from his assurances that he was relatively all right, but as much as she could discern from them he was now in hiding (where he was doing that she couldn't imagine), and if the news that leaked down to Auntie Murial's from outside circles about Neville's Gran disappearing was true then Ginny could only imagine what kind of dangers Neville was facing back at school. So now not only did she always carry the Galleon with her but she rarely put it away, always playing with it nervously or clutching it tightly in her hand, as she was now.

So tightly, in fact, that she almost didn't notice that it was heating up in her grasp. She started, and opening her hand she flipped the Galleon over and peered at it. It said:

_Return to Hogwarts. Apparate into Hog's Head. Harry's back!_

She stared at it for a few seconds longer, unable to believe what she was reading, but then was up like a shot, heading for the kitchen. "Fred! George!" she yelled as she ran, and ran head-first into them both, wands out, as she turned into the kitchen.

"What?" George asked, pointing his wand down the hall in one direction as Fred checked the other. "What is it? Who's here?"

"Nobody, nobody!" Ginny said quickly; she should have known better than to cry out given how on-edge they all were, but she had done it without thinking. "Look!"

She shoved the Galleon into their faces and they both looked at in with the same confusion she had for a moment before exclaiming as one, "Blimey! Unbelievable," Fred continued. "Everyone's at Bill's trying to figure out Harry's next move, and they all get scooped by Neville Longbottom!"

"All right," George said. "What do we do?"

"What do you think we do?" Ginny shouted, running from the room. "Let's go!" She tore back into the sitting room, grabbing her sneakers and shoving them on her feet, and then ran straight back to the kitchen. "Come on, what are you two waiting for?"

"Ginny, we can't just leave!" said George. "We have to wait for mum and dad to get back! They'll go mental with worrying."

"But... but we..." Ginny sputtered. Fred shook his head, too; she knew they were right. With a frustrated sigh she sat down with them at the kitchen table, rolling the Galleon over and over in her hands.

"What do you s'pose Harry's doing at Hogwarts?" Fred asked.

George shook his head. "Couldn't imagine, mate. Whatever it is, bet it's important. It's not like he's just been out there hiding all year, is it?"

"Of course it's not!" Ginny shot at them. "He had important things to do, they all did!"

"Yeah?" said Fred eagerly. "Like what?"

Ginny shook her head. She knew it had something to do with killing Riddle, but that's all she knew, all Harry had inadvertently spilled. She hadn't told anyone yet and she wasn't going to start now.

The minutes ticked past and they sat in silence, each of them fidgeting visibly; clearly Fred and George were just as anxious to get a move on as she. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "To hell with this," she muttered, and drawing her wand she cried out "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Fred and George jumped up in startled alarm as a silvery horse burst forth from her wand, cantering around the room before kicking up its heels and vanishing through the wall.

"What in the blazes was that?" asked Fred, eyes wide.

"Patronus. You know that."

"I know what it was; why'd you do it?"

"I'm sending a message to the Order at Bill's," she explained, "with Neville's instructions."

George looked agog. "You can do that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "You don't date Harry Potter without picking up a few tricks. Now will you two come on?"

The three of them hurried to the front door of the house. As they passed by the main staircase Fred called up to Auntie Murial, "Auntie, we're stepping out for a moment!"

"What in the world for?" called back the elder witch from the floor above.

"We're going to help Harry Potter kill You-Know-Who!"

"For Merlin's sake... well, try not to die, and don't trample all over my azaleas on your way!"

"Charming to the last," said George as they ran out the door and into the yard, towards the border of the protective spells on the other side of the gate from where they'd be able to Apparate to the Hog's Head.

**9.**

"I came as soon as I got the message!" Cho said from the rear as they all traveled through the narrow tunnel. "My parents didn't want me to, but I had to, I just had to!"

"That's the spirit, Cho!" said Lee Jordan. Ginny grit her teeth. They had met Lee and Cho when they had Apparated into the Hog's Head at the same time as she and the twins, and she was trying to play nice. Lee, she loved. Cho, not so much... but now was not the time for petty rivalries.

If she kept telling herself that, maybe she'd eventually believe it.

"How much farther?" Fred said, panting slightly.

"I think we're here," Ginny said as she turned a corner, her heart skipping a beat. There was a short flight of stairs there that led to a small wooden door, behind which lay her friends, Hogwarts... and Harry.

_Harry._

She hadn't told Fred and George, but she'd actually never sent a message via Patronus before. She and Harry had practiced it a few times, yes, but she had never technically managed to do it. She was certain she had succeeded, though, absolutely certain, as the thought she had used to summon the horse had been the happiest she had conceived in quite some time: she was going to see Harry again.

"Gin, what are you waiting for?" Fred asked, and Ginny realized she had stopped and stared at the door for quite a few breaths. "Aberforth said Luna and Dean were right in front of us."

"Actually," corrected Lee, "he said a crazy blondie and a confused-looking bloke, but it's pretty easy to figure, isn't it."

"Shouldn't we go in?" Cho asked.

Ginny nodded. She hated when Cho was right.

She pushed open the door and entered a room she had never seen before. Banners of Hufflepuff yellow, Ravenclaw blue, and Gryffindor crimson were hanging from the ceiling and walls, and brightly colored hammocks filled the space. The dark wood paneling of the place made it seem like some sort of enormous, elaborate tree house, minus the windows, and the throng of chattering, excited students made it clear that this was a meeting place of Dumbledore's Army, considering who was in attendance: Luna, Dean, Seamus, the Patil twins, Lavender, Terry, Ernie, Anthony, the Creevys, Hannah, and more... there was Neville, looking quite the worse-for-wear compared to when she had last seen him, and Ron and Hermione, both looking exhausted and beaten up and shockingly older than they had several months ago.

Ginny took all of this only peripherally, though, as the instant she entered the room, the very instant, her eyes turned as if drawn like a magnet to one person: Harry, his green eyes determined and serious and a little bloodshot behind his glasses, looking older and tired, yes, but also... also... what was the word?

Mature. That was it. There was something about him, something authoritative, something decisive... and he wore it well. As handsome as she had always found him... there were really no words for it now; her breath failed her. His eyes met hers and in spite of the circumstances she felt as warm and content as she had in something like eight months. She beamed like a schoolgirl (which she supposed she was); she couldn't help it, so relieved she was to see him alive and in one piece. He had turned away from Neville when she had entered the room, broken off a conversation, it seemed, and turned all his attention to her the moment she had climbed through the door.

He did not smile back, though, and he did not look entirely pleased to see her. Ginny was about to get annoyed by this, when Fred's voice rang loudly in her ear: "Aberforth's getting a bit annoyed," he said over the cries of greeting that had accompanied their entrance. "He wants a kip, and his bar's turned into a railway station."

Harry's mouth dropped open and Ginny turned, confused at his reaction, just in time to see whom he was staring at: Cho, who had entered behind her and was smiling and waving at Harry. "I got the message," Cho said to Harry, holding up her Galleon as she crossed the room to sit beside Michael Corner.

Ginny's mood darkened, again, and she was about to become annoyed, again, when the little voice in her head piped up, one she hadn't heard in quite some time, actually. "_Calm yourself, dearie,_" it said. "_We're here to fry bigger fish at the moment_." Ginny nodded to herself; they had work to do that was bigger than some stupid schoolyard drama.

"So what's the plan, Harry?" George asked.

"There isn't one," said Harry, scanning the room as he spoke, taking in all the faces.

"Just going to make it up as we go along, are we?" Fred asked with a chuckle. "My favorite kind!"

At this Harry turned to Neville to say something, looking heated as he did so, and just as Ginny was beginning to wonder what was going on she was grabbed and hugged from behind. "Hello, Luna!" she said, turning to return her friend's hug. "I'm so happy you're all right! And I'm so sorry we couldn't stop those men," she said seriously, pulling back to look Luna in the eye, remembering suddenly that the last time she had seen Luna was when she had been abducted from off the Hogwarts Express. "If there had been anything I could have done, taken your place, anything..."

"Oh, I know," Luna said offhandedly. "It's quite all right, though. I made some very good friends down in the cellar of Draco's house."

"That's where Mr. Ollivander said you were. It must have been awful."

Luna shook her head. "I've seen worse."

"Really?"

"No," said Luna. "I just thought it would make you feel better if I said that. Still," the blonde girl added with a dreamy smile, "we're all right, aren't we?"

"We are," said Ginny, "for the moment."

Luna nodded solemnly. "At least we have that."

"Okay!" Harry called out over the conversations that had broken out while he conferred with Ron and Hermione. Ginny sat in a nearby chair and Luna perched on the arm as the room settled down and turned to Harry. "There's something we need to find," he said. "Something- something that'll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It's here at Hogwarts, but we don't know where."

"Good luck," muttered Ernie. Lavender punched him in the arm. Ginny had always liked that girl...

"It might have belonged to Ravenclaw," Harry continued. "Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?" He turned to the small group of Ravenclaws present and all the eyes in the room followed his. Padma, Michael, Terry, and Cho looked to each other, shaking their heads.

Not surprisingly, though, Luna offered a suggestion. "Well, there's her lost diadem. I told you about it, remember? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy's trying to duplicate it."

"Yeah, but the lost diadem is lost, Luna," Michael Corner said. "That's sort of the point."

"When was it lost?" Harry asked, looking thoughtful.

"Centuries ago, they say," Cho answered, causing Ginny to frown. "Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but..." she turned here to her fellow Ravenclaws, "nobody's ever found a trace of it, have they?"

"Sorry, but what _is _a diadem?" asked Ron.

"It's a kind of crown," Terry explained. "Ravenclaw's was supposed to have magical properties, enhance the wisdom of the wearer."

"Yes," Luna said, nodding. "Daddy's Wrackspurt siphon..."

"And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?" Harry implored them, cutting off Luna.

They all shook their heads again. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, and in Ginny's opinion the three of them looked far more despondent than they should have. Surely this diadem or whatever it was wasn't really all that important? Ginny shook her head; they weren't telling everything, as usual, and clearly this crown they were looking for was more than just a crown.

What it could possibly be aside from that, she couldn't begin to imagine.

Cho spoke up, and Ginny's teeth began grinding; it was almost a natural response at this point. "If you'd like to see what the diadem's supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry? Ravenclaw's wearing it in her statue."

Harry flinched as she suggested this, and he turned and whispered something to Ron and Hermione, looked back and glanced at Cho, and then turned again to Ron and Hermione. Ginny glanced at Cho herself: the girl was grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes caught Michael's; he didn't look too happy about Cho's suggestion, either.

Ginny felt better. At least she wasn't the only one with her priorities severely out of line.

"... Wait for me here," Harry was saying to Ron and Hermione as he moved away from them, "and keep, you know – the other one – safe." Other one? What other one? Another diadem? Ginny didn't have time to ponder this, though, as Cho had stood up, stupid smile across her face, and taken a step towards Harry.

"No, Luna will take Harry, won't you, Luna?" Ginny snapped out in an angry voice. Cho glared at her, but others around the room glanced at her with bemused smiles.

"Oooh, yes, I'd like to," Luna said, hopping off the arm of Ginny's chair and brushing past Cho, who suddenly didn't look quite so pleased with herself as she plopped back down into her seat.

Ginny smiled with satisfaction. "Right," she muttered to herself. "Like I'd ever lose anything to Cho Chang."

Harry and Luna left and the excited chattering in the room picked up again. Ginny hopped out of her seat and crossed to where Ron and Hermione were talking in low tones with Neville. "You look awful," Ginny said matter-of-factly to Neville as she approached.

Neville grinned at her. "Thanks," he said.

"Nev, where are we?"

"Room of Requirement, of course."

Ginny looked around, amazed. Of course it was; where else would they be? She turned back to Ron and Hermione. From up close, they looked even older and more worn out than she had realized. "You three are up to something, aren't you?"

"Of course," said Ron with a shrug.

"And you still can't tell us what?"

"Naturally."

Ginny nodded, and then pulled them both into a hug. "Fair enough," she said, releasing them quickly; Hermione smiled at her but said nothing. "Get back to it, then," Ginny said. "We can talk after. Oh, and Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"You smell like dragon dung."

"Back at you, Gin," said Ron with a grin.

It was so good to see him again.

**10.**

The Room of Requirement was getting awfully crowded. Not long after Harry had left with Luna, the portrait hole they had all clambered into begin opening and closing with surprising regularity; Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and more had shown up, along with Professor Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both of whom had arrived with Bill and Fleur direct from Shell Cottage (her message had indeed gotten through, it seemed)... along with, of course, her mother and father.

It would be an understatement to say her mum was less than thrilled to see her.

"... don't know why on Earth you'd allow her along!" she was saying to Fred and George amidst the dozens of other conversations going on around the room; Ginny would have been getting more and more embarrassed if she wasn't getting so mad. "She's not yet of age and has no business..."

"I have every business!" Ginny interrupted angrily. "I spent half a year here; if Hogwarts is going to fight back then I'm going to be part of it!"

"And who said anything about fighting back?" cried her mother.

"If we're not going to fight then why are we here?" George asked crossly. "Why did we call everyone back?"

"You're asking the wrong wizard, mate," Fred answered. "You should probably ask-"

"Harry!" Katie Bell was pointing at the staircase, where Harry had just appeared with Luna. He seemed completely taken aback at the extent to which the crowd had grown. Luna, of course, was nonplussed.

A hush fell over the room as soon as he appeared. Professor Lupin approached the staircase. "Harry, what's happening?" he asked.

"Voldemort's on his way," he said, and Ginny realized with some dread that if he was saying the name then Riddle must already know where Harry was. "They're barricading the school – Snape's run for it – What are you doing here?" he asked to the crowd in general, still looking around as if doing a headcount. "How did you know?"

"We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore's Army," explained Fred. "You couldn't expect everyone to miss the fun, Harry, and the D.A. let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed."

"What first, Harry?" George asked, only a little impatiently. "What's going on?"

Harry nodded, seeming to collect his wits, now over his surprise at seeing just how many others had assembled. "They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized," Harry said. "We're fighting."

Ginny's heart surged as the crowd roared it's approval. She stepped forward with the rest of them, eager to head up the stairs and take her stand along with everyone else, but her mother caught her arm and pulled her back. "Just where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"To the Great Hall!" Ginny said. "Just like you and the rest!"

Her mother shook her head. Around them, her brothers, father, Fleur, and Lupin stopped in their tracks, glancing at each other uncomfortably. "You're underage!" Molly cried. "I won't permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you've got to go home!"

"I won't!" Ginny protested, pulling her arm out of her mother's grip, her hair flying in the zeal of her protestation. She couldn't imagine it, couldn't bear the thought, heading back to Auntie Murial's or The Burrow to wait and see if everyone she knew and loved would live or die. "I'm in Dumbledore's Army—"

"A teenagers' gang!"

"A teenagers' gang that's about to take him on, which no else has dared to do!" Fred protested; Ginny threw him an expression of gratitude.

"She's sixteen!" their mother shouted, tears forming in her eyes. "She's not old enough! What you two were thinking, bringing her with you -"

About to protest again, Fred shut his mouth and he and George shared a guilty look. Bill stepped in. "Mum's right, Ginny," he said to her quietly. "You can't do this. Everyone underage will have to leave, it's only right."

"I can't go home!" Ginny shouted, on the verge of hysteria herself, angry tears threatening to fly. "My whole family's here, I can't stand waiting there alone and not knowing and -" as she spun away from her brother she realized for the first time that another had joined the group. Harry stood at her side, watching intently. She looked to him, joining her eyes to his, silently pleading her case... but he shook his head.

She turned away, suddenly furious at him, furious with him, wondering if he understood the reason she did not want to leave above all else was because she could not bear not knowing what was going to happen to him...

_Motivation..._

The path Dumbledore had left her rang again through her head. Was she meant to go home? To leave? Would her presumed safety provide Harry with... she didn't know... with some strength, some reason to carry on? If she were to stay behind, fall in battle... would he give up? No, never, of course he wouldn't.

But still...

"Fine," she said quietly, glaring at the entrance to the tunnel back. She still wasn't happy about it, not one bit. "I'll say good-bye now, then, and –"

The topic abruptly changed, though, when Percy fell through the tunnel exit and onto the floor.

"Am I too late?" he asked as he clambered to his feet. "Has it started? I only just found out, so I – I -"

He fell into silence, realizing that he had fallen right into a room with his whole family. Ginny just stared, gape-mouthed. Of all the people she hadn't expected to see... Somewhere behind her Fleur and Professor Lupin began chattering on about Lupin and Tonk's new son in an awkward attempt to end the awkward silence; a pang of guilt shot through Ginny as remembered she had yet to sneak over to the Tonks' place to see Teddy, even though Lupin had mentioned Tonks was especially eager for Ginny to meet the baby...

"I was a fool!" Percy roared, shaking Ginny out of the absurd train of though her misfiring brain had tracked onto. "I was an idiot, I was a pompous prat, I was a – a –"

"Ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron," Fred finished for him.

Percy nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, I was!"

Fred shrugged. "Well, you can't say fairer than that," he said, stepping forward and grasping hold of Percy's hand.

Their mother let out a cry and rushed forward, fairly pushing Fred out of the way to pull Percy into a crushing embrace. From over her shoulder, Percy looked at their father. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said. Blinking back his own tears, their father also rushed towards his son, taking hold of both Percy and their mum.

"What made you see sense, Perce?" George asked as the embrace broke apart.

"It's been coming on for a while," Percy explained, drying his eyes with the corner of his traveling cloak. "But I had to find a way out and it's not so easy at the Ministry, they're imprisoning traitors all the time. I managed to make contact with Aberforth and he tipped me off ten minutes ago that Hogwarts was going to make a fight of it, so here I am."

"Well, we do look to our prefects to take a lead at times such as these," George said in his best Percy-speak. "Now let's get upstairs and fight, or all the good Death Eaters'll be taken!"

And in a show of reconciliation so unexpected as to be almost absurd, her brothers all headed together up the stairs, with Fleur and Ginny right behind them. Surely she could 'motivate' Harry even while fighting...

"Ginny!"

So close. Ginny stopped and glared at her mother as the rest of them left her behind. Something rather choice was about to pass her lips when Professor Lupin stepped in. "Molly, how about this. Why doesn't Ginny stay here, then at least she'll be on the scene and know what's going on, but she won't be in the middle of the fighting?"

Ginny didn't really see how that was much better. "I -" she began to protest, but her father cut her off.

"That's a good idea," he said, leveling her with a stern gaze. "Ginny, you stay in this room, do you hear me?"

That was that. When her father stepped in so firmly, a rare thing for him, she knew enough to know that the arguing was over. She nodded, still displeased.

Her parents and Professor Lupin turned towards the staircase now. When Harry called after them, Ginny jumped; she had nearly forgotten he was there in all the Percy excitement. "Where's Ron?" he asked to their retreating forms. "Where's Hermione?"

"They must have gone up to the Great Hall already," her father called back just before disappearing up the stairs and around the corner.

Harry looked puzzled. "I didn't see them pass me," he said, turning to Ginny.

"They said something about a bathroom," Ginny recalled, "not long after you left?"

"A bathroom?" This seemed to confuse Harry even more and he strode across the Room of Requirement to check the small bathroom attached. Ginny tried to think back, but Ron and Hermione hadn't been speaking to anyone else, just muttering to each other in the corner, when Ron got very excited and Ginny happened to hear him say something about heading to a bathroom. She hadn't paid attention to what they had done next.

Harry finished his once-over of the bathroom and turned back to her, shaking his head. "You're sure they said bath – ?"

He never finished the sentence. With a sharp intake of air he squeezed his eyes shut tight and his hand flew up to hold his scar as he fell down to one knee. "Harry?" Ginny asked, alarmed, suddenly very aware that they were alone in the room now and if something was wrong there was nobody to help him but her. She rushed over to him and helped him to his feet, trying to ignore the pinpricks of electricity that shot up her arms as she touched him for the first time in half a year. He staggered to his feet, his eyes slowly opening and refocusing. "Harry, are you all right?" she asked.

"He's here," Harry said quietly. "Outside. At the gate." He looked at her, his green eyes boring into her brown. "Tom is here."

Ginny nodded slowly. This was it, wasn't it? And it wasn't about any of the dozens and dozens of people who had gathered, Death Eaters and Hogwarts supporters alike. It was about two people; Harry and Riddle.

She fought the sudden urge to kiss him as this didn't seem the time and place for impromptu snogging, frankly, and Harry certainly seemed to have other things on his mind. "Try to be safe, won't you?" she instead asked quietly as he pulled away from her and towards the steps.

"You, too," he said, turning back to her. "And please, Ginny, stay in this room!"

He was gone. Ginny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, sitting down in one of the least comfortable chairs in the room. How anyone thought she'd be able to resist the lure of heading upstairs for any reasonable length of time was beyond her.

**11.**

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked as Tonks leaped down from the portrait, tripping on her landing but regaining her footing before she wiped out. Her hair was brown again, Ginny noted. The last of the evacuating students were still hurrying through the portrait hole, prefects leading the way; Tonks must have pushed past the flow of traffic through the tunnel to make it into the room. "I thought you were staying at with your mum and Teddy!"

"I couldn't just stay back, could I?" Tonks said agitatedly. As she straightened up a Ravenclaw prefect pulled the passageway door shut behind her, giving Ginny a questioning look as she went. Ginny ignored her. "My husband's here," Tonks continued, desperation evident in her eyes, " as well as everyone I know, and... wait." She gave Ginny a puzzled look. "What are YOU doing in here?"

Ginny scowled. "Mum and dad say I have to stay in here because I'm underage."

"What?" said Tonks, her hair flashing into a brownish-crimson at this. "Bollocks! Stay here? The fighting has started, I reckon; you could hear the bangs all the way from inside the Hog's Head. We're going to need everyone we can get." Ginny grinned. It was like she was in prison and Tonks had shown up with the key. The young Auror gestured to the stairs. "Come on... wait!"

They had taken two steps towards the staircase when Tonks stopped short and Ginny slammed into her. Tonks turned to look at her. "All right, it's off topic and maybe not the best time, but you haven't been 'round to visit, have you?"

"I'm sorry!" Ginny apologized. "I mean it, I feel awful, I..."

Tonks laughed. "Considering how we've all been living? It's all right. But I had a question to ask. Remus and I were wondering if you'd agree to be Teddy's godmother."

It was so out of thin air, so unexpected, that it took Ginny several moments to realized what she had just been asked. "Wait... what?"

"Teddy's godmother," Tonks repeated with a smile.

Ginny shook her head, mouth hanging open and, for some reason, blushing. "I... I don't know HOW to be a godmother!" she protested. "Why in the world would you pick me?"

"I thought about it and asked myself, 'Who do I know who would fight hardest for the people she loves?' I came to you, Gin," Tonks said, adding with a wink. "You get it from your mum, I reckon."

Ginny shook her head again. "Tonks, I... I..." She could think of nothing to say to express her gratitude, though, so instead just reached out and embraced the older woman.

After several long moments Ginny reached back and they both swiped at their eyes. "Besides," Tonks added, "considering who Remus asked to be his godfather, I can't imagine a more perfect match."

"Why?" Ginny asked. "Who did..."

"I am looking for Neville Longbottom. Do either of you young ladies know where he is?"

Ginny and Tonks turned to the tunnel entrance just in time to see the blue-eyed barman of the Hog's Head (Aberforth, was it?) helping an elderly witch in a moth-eaten hat topped with a somewhat-worse-for-wear stuffed vulture down into the Room of Requirement. It struck Ginny very randomly that Hogwarts could be quite an odd place sometimes.

**12.**

"And then you can come back in!" Harry shouted after her as she ran up the steps after Tonks. "You've got to come back in!"

"Right, right," Ginny mumbled, half to Harry and half to herself. Certainly, she'd come back in, absolutely... after the battle...

She stepped into the corridor outside the Room of Requirement and stopped short. This wasn't Hogwarts. This was some alternate Hogwarts drawn in from another world. It was dark, darker than the castle normally was, and the walls and ceiling were shaking. Voices echoed through the halls all around them, shouting and crying out, and more wafted in through the windows lining the hallway.

"DOWN!"

Tonks tackled her, pushing her to the floor, just as a jet of green light blasted through the nearest window and flew over their heads, shattering into the wall behind.

"Thanks," Ginny said, dusting herself off as she and Tonks hurried to take cover on either side of the offending window. Tonks flicked her wand at the glass and two panes shattered, giving them openings out of which to see and aim spells, if necessary. It was very likely to be necessary. Ginny took a deep breath, willing herself to stop shaking.

"They Order and the teachers have put up defenses," Tonks said, "but they won't last forever. The Death Eaters are already starting to break through."

"Hadn't noticed," Ginny muttered, glancing back at the chunk of wall the spell aimed at them had blasted out. She stuck her wand out of the window and fired off some spells into the throngs of black-cloaked figures below; she couldn't tell if the dread she was beginning to feel in the pit of her stomach was because of the odds or because there were Dementors nearby. Likely it was both.

She and Tonks took turns firing spells down into the grounds below. Ginny realized that Tonks was spending longer and longer seconds looking out the window, down at the grounds, searching for the party of fighters Harry had said her husband would be leading out there. "Tonks, look out!" Ginny cried, pulling her back just as a blast of purple flame flew through the window, shattering several more panes. "You have to be more careful! I know you're worried, but -"

She was cut off by a monstrous roar from outside; she looked up to see Grawp the giant wandering past, swinging a makeshift club and looking irritated. From behind her she heard Ron yell, "Let's hope he steps on some of them!"

"As long as it's not any of our lot!" she called back to him. She reached up and pointed her wand out the window, firing a jinx down into the crowd below.

"Good girl!" came a bellowing voice from behind them. She glanced over her shoulder to see Aberforth running past with a small group of students. He paused. "They look like they might be breaching the north battlements, they've brought giants of their own!"

He took off again, and Tonks cried after him, "Have you seen Remus?"

"He was dueling Dolohov," Aberforth shouted back, "haven't seen him since!"

Without another word to Ginny, Tonks jumped to her feet and ran off in the direction the Hog's Head barman had gone, disappearing quickly into the dust and shadows. "Tonks!" Ginny called after her. "Tonks, I'm sure he's okay!"

Tonks did not call back. Suddenly at a loss for what to do next, she turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron and Hermione were antsy, wanting to move, but Harry took a step towards her. "They'll be all right," he said, trying to reassure her, though she knew all bets were off now. "Ginny, we'll be back in a moment, just keep out of the way, keep safe..." He turned back to Ron and Hermione. "Come on!"

Ginny watched as they hurried back to the Room of Requirement's entrance, quickly paced in front of it three times, and then disappeared inside.

She stood frozen for a moment. Now that she had been liberated and was neck deep in this bedlam she didn't know where to go next. For half an instant she considered following the three of them into the room...

… but an explosion from the window between she and the entrance convinced her otherwise. She decided quite suddenly the best thing to do was keep moving, find others, find Tonks, find her family, join the fight, so she turned on her heel and ran from the Room of Requirement and after the young woman who had just made her responsible for a child's life.

**13.**

Ginny had lost all track of time.

Not long after leaving the Room of Requirement she had found her mother and father in the entrance hall trying to fortify the front gates, but before her mother could yell at her for leaving the room the Death Eaters had broken through and all hell had broken loose. She ran through the corridors, dueling indiscriminately, fighting anyone in a black hood, joining forces with one D.A. or Order member or another, immediately breaking apart from them when some new threat reared its head, be it Death Eater or giant spider (giant spiders!) or some large chunk of debris thrown through a window by a giant.

"Look out, Neville!" she had cried at one point, throwing a Stunner at the Death Eater who was taking aim at him from a moving staircase; Neville had given her a small salute and then they were separated from each other by an explosion. Minutes later she had jumped forwards as a Death Eater fell to the ground from where he was coming up just behind her, incapacitated by Hannah Abbot's Full-Body Bind. She was certain she saw Percy charging down the main stairwell yelling "ROOKWOOD!" and was almost positive there were tears streaming down his face as he did, but she was cut off from him by a pair of Death Eaters that fell under the wands of Luna, Seamus, and Ernie; she returned the favor, Disarming a third that tried to intercept them as they ran out to the grounds.

She would have joined them, safety in numbers, but she was still trying to find Tonks. She had caught a glimpse of Professor Lupin still dueling the Death Eater Dolohov from across the courtyard but had lost sight of them before she could reach them; still, if she wanted to make sure Tonks was safe she thought she'd do just as well to find him.

She wasn't sure why she had fixated so on Tonks, but knew she needed a goal to keep herself going, to drive her forward, lest she just seize up and give in to the overwhelming madness of it all.

Suddenly, and quite without warning... it was quiet. She had turned down a corridor somewhere on the third floor and the echoes of the battle seemed to melt away behind her. It was a respite, it was silent... it made her very, very uneasy.

When asked later she wouldn't have been able to recall what, exactly, kept her walking. She wasn't trying to run away, or to hide, but she continued down the corridor, step by step, her grip on her wand growing tighter as she did, her nerves beginning to shake and perspiration forming on her brow.

When she was almost to the end of the corridor she heard it: two voices, female voices, grunting with the exertion of combat. It was funny, really, that she heard the voices before she heard the spells, but as soon as she realized what was going on around the corner she realized the impacts and explosions she heard were not echoing from below her but were rather a product of the duel ahead of her.

Then one of the voices formed into words, a cackling taunt of "Is that really the best you can do?" that she'd recognize anywhere. She hastened her pace, wand up, ready to leap into the fray on the side of whomever it was that was battling Bellatrix Lestrange, her heart thudding inside her chest. She took the corner at a run and the combatants came into view...

… just in time for Ginny to see the flash of green light hit Tonks square in the middle of the chest and to see the form of her fallen friend crumple unceremoniously at Bellatrix's feet.

She froze in horror, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything. Bellatrix had not yet noticed her; she should strike now, should raise her wand, take her unawares... but then those dark and sunken eyes looked up from where they feasted hungrily on the sight of Tonks' body, looked right into hers, and a smile uncurled itself across the murderer's cold, thin lips. Ginny gasped and stepped back, her fingers fumbling to cast a Shield Charm, when a cold, rasping voice shattered the air.

"You have fought valiantly," came Riddle's voice, sounding just as it had earlier when he exhorted the inhabitants of the castle to turn over Harry to him. Bellatrix had lost all interest in Ginny and was now drinking in her master's words as though they were the very air she breathed. "Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."

Bellatrix glowered at Ginny at this. Ginny did not lower her wand; she did not trust the woman no matter what her orders were. She stayed were she stood, wand pointed at Bellatrix, as Riddle demanded Harry turn himself in within an hour's time to stop the bloodshed. When his thin, reedy voice had dissipated into the night, Bellatrix and Ginny continued to glare at each other. "Come on, then," Ginny said, her voice trembling and tight. "He'll never know. Let's have a go. See how you like it."

Bellatrix gave a wild, whooping laugh. "Oh, he'd know," she cackled. "My lord knows all. And you, little girl, should be careful what you wish for." She lowered her wand with a smile. "Very soon, you just might get it." With another laugh the witch slashed her wand through the air; there was a flash of light and a burst of smoke. When it had cleared, she was gone.

Ginny ran to Tonks' body, turning her over. "Tonks?" she cried. "Tonks!" Her friend gave no reply, her eyes open and staring into the darkness. Ginny did not know what to do. She didn't know for how long she sat there, cradling Tonks' head in her arms, her brain stunned into inactivity, before she heard the footsteps of help coming towards her from around the corner.

**14.**

There were no words.

In the Great Hall the tables had been moved aside to make room for the sick, and for the dead. Ginny was in a haze, a fog, she couldn't even recall who had come to her in the third floor corridor and carried Tonks' body down, to be laid to rest next to her husband. She had lost all sensation, all feeling, was not even certain when she had cried but could feel the dampness on her cheeks and the puffiness of her eyes to prove that she had.

Likely, though, it was when she had seen Fred.

She half expected him to get up again. Half expected him to lift their sobbing mother off of his chest with a laugh, reprimand George for trying to take an ear from him... even as these thoughts flew through her mind she chastised herself for having them. This was no time to be imagining jokes, reasons to laugh. There would be no laughter again, never again, not anymore. That had been Fred's job, and now he was... he...

It wasn't fun anymore, none of it. Even when they had been fighting against Umbridge when they first started the D.A., battling in the Department of Mysteries, even then there was an air of adventure to it, mischievousness, just a 'Teenager's Gang' having fun. Even when Sirius had died... Sirius, whom Harry had loved and whom she had adored as well... he was an escaped convict, a man without a family or a home. It had seemed in some way that a man like that was MEANT to die in a duel to the death, that as awful as it had been it had at least contained some sort of poetry to it.

Fred just wanted to make the world laugh. Remus and Tonks had just had a baby. Where was the poetry in that? Where was the reason?

Her father stood over her mother's shoulder, stroking her hair, tears streaming down his own cheeks. Bill, Fleur, and Percy stood off to the side in a group of their own. On the far side of the hall, she heard the cracks of magic where Charlie was taking out his frustrations on the walls of the castle; she didn't even know when Charlie had arrived. She watched mechanically as Professor Slughorn, still clad in emerald pajamas, waddled over to him, pulling his arm back and calming him down.

"Ginny..." said a quiet voice. She looked back towards the entrance to the hall and saw Hermione approaching her. She was covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises, but then so was everyone else. Silently, the older girl drew her into an embrace. Ginny did not speak; she wanted to sob, to weep, but something was there stopping her, a wall or a dam.

After several long seconds she withdrew from Hermione, and the two girls, arms linked, turned back to her family; she saw that Ron had joined Percy and Bill. A single, horrifying thought occurred to her. Her was Ron, and Hermione, but there was no...

"Harry!" she gasped, looking to Hermione.

"He has something to do," Hermione said quietly. "Something important." That was all she offered. For once, Ginny did not pry for more.

"It is a tragedy beyond words," Professor Slughorn murmured as he approached the family, his arm over Charlie's shoulders. "It is too much... too much to give, for any cause."

Her father stood shakily, but her mother stayed sprawled on Fred's body. "Horace, we are done for," he said in a raspy whisper. Ginny had never heard her father sounding so defeated. "We are outnumbered and outskilled. What can we do?"

Professor Slughorn looked to the raised platform where the injured were being treated and where Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt were conferring; neither looked overly confident. "We will do what we must, Arthur," said Professor Slughorn. "We will make whatever stand we can make."

At that, the fat little professor waddled over the raised platform and clambered upon it, pointing his wand at his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, a moment," came out his amplified voice. "A moment of silence, if you please."

A long moment hung in the air as heads bowed all around the Great Hall. Finally, Professor Slughorn spoke again. "We have suffered great and heavy losses, and many of us are injured and weakened, both of body and of spirit. Ours, though, is not a battle we can choose not to fight." He paused; no one spoke. "We feel outnumbered and outmagicked, but I don't believe this to be so. Up and down the countryside, good men and women, good wizards and witches, are afraid to leave their homes and take a stand because of what might happen to them. Our losses today are evidence that their fears are with merit. The time has come, though, for fears to be thrown aside. We cannot be outnumbered!" he thundered. "We cannot be outdone! We fight for good and decency, and those who work in the service of good and decency will always outnumber those who labor for darkness and hatred and despair!"

By now, some more people had stood, and all were listening with rapt attention to Slughorn's words. He continued: "I, too, was once one of those wizards, running and hiding from the brutes outside, afraid to stay in one place for too long. Well, I for one am tired of it, I am sick to death of it, and so must be everyone else who feels as I do! We all have friends, family!" he exhorted. "Now is the time to summon them, to tell them the battle is now for their lives and their souls! Our reinforcements are out there, my friends, it us only up to us now to ask them, to remind them that we fight here today not for Hogwarts, not for Harry Potter, but for our very way of life!"

A roar rose up from the crowd, cheers and whistles; Ginny could not believe what she was hearing. Was this really the same squat little potions professor who had enlisted her in the Slug Club because she had bat-bogeyed Zacharias Smith?

"Patronuses!" Slughorn cried. "Patronuses! Send for help! Tell all you know to meet us in Hogsmeade! We will rally the troops and win the day! If you need a thought, a good and happy thought, use this: we have not yet begun to fight!"

Silver and blue animals were exploding all over the room. Her mother, even, had stood and raised her wand, releasing her glowing hen out into the air. Slughorn returned to the Weasleys just as Professor McGonagall hurried up to him. "Stirring, Horace!" she cried, wiping at her eye with her sleeve. "Stirring! I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

"I don't blame that you did," Slughorn said as he shook Arthur's hand. He turned to Charlie. "Come now, young man! Surely you in your line of business have some friends who may be able to lend us a little fire-breathing assistance?"

Charlie nodded, his lantern jaw set. "I'll see what I can do," he said, swinging his wand in a big circle around his head. Drawing it back as far as he could, he thrust it forward and a gargantuan silver dragon, almost as large as the hall itself, burst forth with a roar, breathing silvery flames into the sky before crashing through the ceiling and beyond.

Slughorn nodded his approval. "Good lad, good lad! Come, let us meet any brave enough to answer our call, and if none should come than it will just be you and I saving the day! Glory is ours!" With an arm around Charlie again, Slughorn headed towards the hall entrance. Ginny hesitated for a moment, but then withdrew her arm from Hermione's and ran up to him as the last flickering vestiges of silver light left the room.

"Professor?" she said, her voice croaking and small; in spite of the uplifting troop-rallying, her emotions were still barely at bay, for Tonks and Remus and Fred still lay behind her.

"Yes, Miss Weasely, what is it?" the professor asked as she and her brother stopped.

Ginny hesitated, wondering why she had picked now for this, but he HAD said to tell him whenever she thought of it, so... "Phoenix tears," she said.

"Phoenix tears? Whatever on Earth..."

"The third smell," she explained. "In Amortentia. That's what it was."

Slughorn smiled and gave her a wink. "Fitting," he said. "Quite fitting." He grew more somber. "And, let us pray, prophetic."

Slughorn turned and walked hurriedly away, but Charlie looked at Ginny confusedly. "Phoenix tears, sis?" he asked. "Who are you in love with that smells like..." It dawned on him. "Oooh. Potter, huh?" He nodded. "Hey, good choice."

Charlie walked off after Slughorn; Ginny watched him go. It WAS a good choice, she realized. An excellent choice, an amazing choice.

If Harry survived.

Even if he didn't.

**15.**

"I'll help," she said to Neville quietly, and he nodded in gratitude. They walked down the steps together, silently, and then split up into the darkness of the grounds. Ginny moved numbly, unfeeling, all cried out. Although she had seen and although she had wept, she could not yet comprehend the reality of Fred and Tonks and Lupin... but she could no longer stand there, stand staring at their fallen forms, and she needed to move, to do something, to be active.

She stopped in the darkness and looked out across the grounds to the Forbidden Forest. Riddle was in there, waiting. Waiting for Harry. She had to assume, had to hope, that Harry would not go and do anything stupid or noble or both, that although he had disappeared from the Great Hall when Ron and Hermione had arrived he was still in the castle, planning what to do next.

"Mummy?"

Ginny sharply inhaled; the word had startled her. Several yards to her left lay a small form in the grass she had not noticed. It had rolled over; it was a girl, a student, a seventh year Hufflepuff girl she did not know well. "Mum?" the girl whispered again, in a feeble voice Ginny had to strain to hear.

"No, I'm not your mum," Ginny said softly, hurrying to the girl and crouching over her. "But it's going to be all right. We'll get you to your mum."

"I want to go now, please," the girl said. Half of her face was caked in blood and she could not open one eye; her legs looked to not be of much use, either. "I'd like to go back home."

Ginny nodded, unable to look away, unknowing what to do, unsure of what to say. It was Tonks all over again, but this girl was still alive. "It's all right," Ginny tried to assure her. "It's okay. We're going to get you inside."

"But I want to go _home_," whispered the girl. "I don't want to fight anymore!"

"I know," said Ginny, her voice breaking. She took a deep breath; she had to keep herself together. "It's going to be all right," she repeated as she knelt next to the girl...

… and then she looked up, turning her head sharply. She thought she had heard... had felt something pass... someone...

… but there was nobody there, only the dark, and the cold.

"Gin?" said a voice from the other way now, away from the phantom sound. She looked up to see Seamus walking towards her.

"She's hurt," Ginny whispered. Seamus nodded and without a word lifted the girl up carefully, carrying her back to the school. Ginny watched them go, watched for long after Seamus and the girl had disappeared into the castle, kneeling alone in the darkness, crying again, tears falling anew, for Fred, for Tonks, for Lupin, for all of the fallen... and for the fear that one more would soon be added to their ranks. For she was certain, quite certain, that Harry had walked passed her minutes before underneath his Invisibility Cloak, heading into the Forbidden Forest, and towards Voldemort.

**16.**

The words washed over them like ice water, stopping everyone in the Great Hall from tending to the wounded and recuperating from the earlier battle. "Harry Potter is dead," declared the magically amplified voice of Tom Riddle. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."

Ginny had stopped breathing; she looked at Hermione and Ron, her eyes wide. "It's not true," Hermione said breathlessly. "It can't be, any of it."

"The battle is won," Riddle's voice continued. "You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall all build together."

Silence. Ginny looked around the Hall, despair gripping her heart, and for the first time saw the combined defenders of Hogwarts for what they were, no matter what Professor Slughorn had said: a ragtag group of exhausted teachers and students, with a handful of family and Aurors sprinkled in for good measure. If Harry was dead... but she pushed that thought aside as quickly as she had borne it. If Harry was dead, which she would not believe until she saw, she would fight on. They all would. His death, and her brother's and the deaths of her friends... they would not be in vain.

"They're coming," Lee Jordan said, looking out a small hole blown in the side of the Great Hall. "They're coming from the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a whole group of 'em, and they've got giants and... and I think that's Hagrid with 'em."

Everyone looked to the teacher's table, where Kingsley and Professor McGonagall and Ginny's father had been holding an impromptu council of war. The three of them looked to each other. "Well?" her father asked Kingsley.

"Minerva, open the gates," Shacklebolt said decisively.

"But-"

"If they're coming for a fight, let them come. We'll meet them head on. I'd like to see if what the Dark Lord says is true."

Professor McGonagall nodded curtly and headed to the entrance hall. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny looked at each other and moved quickly to follow her; they were not alone as the standing population of the Great Hall slowly began to follow suit. Professor McGonagall approached the main doors to the castle, and looked back to Kingley; he nodded to her. She flicked her wand and the doors opened.

The sky outside had gone pink, a sign of the impending dawn. The Death Eaters were at the gate, lining up now single file in front of them. Leading them was their master, his skin pale and thin, his eyes reddish slits, a large and heavy snake around his shoulders. Ginny had only until now caught glimpses of him, old photographs and the like; she was taken aback at how inhuman the handsome young boy who had lived once upon a time in her diary had become. He was flanked by Bellatrix Lestrange, and being shoved now to the front of the line was Hagrid, who seemed to be carrying...

"NO!"

It was Professor McGonagall who first saw, and as soon as she did others in the entranceway saw it as well. Some cried out in anguish, others burst into tears; others set their jaws and readied their wands. For her part, Ginny would not believe it, could not believe it, even though it was right there in front of her to see.

Harry's body, still and motionless and lifeless, lay in Hagrid's arms, the Gameskeeper sobbing uncontrollably.

"No!" cried out Ron, echoed immediately by Hermione.

"Harry!" Ginny called out as her heart sank lower and lower into the ground; was she expecting a response? "HARRY!" Hermione grabbed her hand and squeezed but she shook it free. The coldness in her chest was quickly leaving, filling up with fury and anger and a need for vengeance. Unconsciously she flicked her wand sharply and sparks flew from its tip as the rest of the defenders that filled up the entrance hall and pushed their way out to the steps, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione at the lead, shouted out their own protestations and anger.

"SILENCE!" Riddle bellowed, and with a flash of light from his wand and a bang a Silencing Charm shut all of their mouths. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!" Hagrid did so, still weeping as he lowered Harry's body to the ground, and Voldemort began pacing frantically. "You see?" he cried. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" Ron yelled, and Ginny's heart pounded back to life with pride for her brother as a roar rose up from their allies. Voldemort waved his wand and silenced them all with another bang...

… but it didn't silence them at all, for some reason. They could still speak. "They shouldn't have come out during the day," Bill murmured, and all around people looked to him as Voldemort ranted. "They should have kept to the darkness." He gestured outside, towards the assembled Death Eaters. "Look at them," he said. "They're the worst of us. Miscreants and bullies, the dregs of our society, led by an old man waving a stick." All around, people nodded their heads in fervent agreement, determination clear on all of their faces.

Arthur rubbed his hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "It's true. We fly the flags of bravery, cunning, and loyalty," Arthur said, and at the words Ginny's heart swelled with pride. "They fly the flag of deceit and obsession."

"Wands out, everyone," said Kinsgley and they all followed suit. "Get ready, on my mark, and..."

"What the bloody hell is Neville doing?" hissed Ron.

But Neville had already run out through the crowd to confront the Dark Lord, and had been disarmed for his troubles, much to the delight of Bellatrix and Riddle. "You show spirit and bravery," Voldemort was saying to him. "You come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," Neville cried. "Dumbledore's Army!" Ginny led the cheers this time. She was suddenly gripped by a firm belief: this was not the end of their battle, it was the start of the D.A.'s greatest moment. If Harry had died (she would deal with that later) so that their world could live, if he had given them that gift, then they would not waste it, she would not let them. She believed, believed with every fiber of her soul, even when Riddle summoned the Sorting Hat onto Neville's head and set it on fire. She believed, even when the flames engulfed Neville himself. She believed, even when the giants came. She believed...

… and her faith was rewarded, as the centaurs broke through the Forbidden Forest and began firing arrows into the ranks of the Death Eaters. Her faith was rewarded, as Neville broke free of the flames around him and reached into the depths of the Sorting Hat. Her faith was rewarded, when he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from within the hat, the sword they had tried but failed to take back so long ago, and used it to cut the head off of Riddle's pet snake, and her faith was rewarded when she saw the thestrals and a hippogriff disabling Riddle's giants.

Her faith was rewarded as she rushed back into the school and into the Great Hall along with the rest of the fight and watched as spell after spell from the Death Eaters failed to hit their mark, stopped inexplicably in mid-air, and as the reinforcements that Professor Slughorn had promised them came charging up the steps to enter the fray, her brother Charlie leading the way. She watched as the house elves burst into the entrance hall, fighting back Death Eaters, and as her friends took out the enemy one by one with seeming ease.

Ginny looked around the chaos, looked for a fight she could join in on, and saw it: Bellatrix was dueling Hermione and Luna.

Bellatrix was trying to kill two of her best friends.

She flew across the room, her wand flashing to their aid, but Bellatrix merely cackled, parried all three of their attacks, flinging one curse after another after them. "Watch out!" cried Hermione, shoving Ginny aside as a Killing Curse flew just past her head. Ginny gritted her teeth: if she were to die today, she was taking this cow with her. She raised her wand again, and...

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

Without warning, Ginny's mother had entered the fray. "OUT OF MY WAY!" she shouted as she threw off her traveling cloak. Bellatrix laughed gleefully at first, but that was quickly replaced with an ugly snarl as it became clear that Molly Weasley was playing for keeps.

Ginny watched from where she had been shoved onto the floor, stunned into inaction by the ferocity of her mother's assault. A few students stepped forward to help, but her mother cried, "No! Get back! Get back! She is mine!"

"What will happen to your children when I kill you?" Bellatrix taunted as they fought. "When mummy's gone the same way as Freddie!" Ginny's blood boiled at this and she gripped her wand tighter, ready to jump into the fray should her mother's defenses fail.

She needn't have worried. "You – will – never – touch – our – children – again!" Molly screamed, and with one final vicious swipe Ginny's mother shot a curse directly into Bellatrix's heart.

Time stood still. Bellatrix's eyes went wide for a moment as she realized what had happened, that she had lost everything, and then she toppled. The crowd roared, but over that sound Ginny heard Riddle scream.

"Mum, look out!" she cried as she saw Voldemort's wand raise, pointed at the back of her mother's head. A curse flew towards her mother just as a voice roared "_PROTEGO!"_ and the Shield Charm stopped it in midair. Before anyone could figure out what had just happened, its caster pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and stood tall against Voldemort. Ginny's faith was rewarded one last time.

"HARRY!" she cried, and it was. He was here, alive, like the phoenix she had so come to associate him with, and the tide had turned completely and utterly in a matter of minutes. Ginny realized, belatedly, that all the Death Eaters had been stopped or had run, and Tom Riddle was the only one left.

"I don't want anyone else to try and help," Harry called out, and his voice was loud and strong. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."

He and Riddle began circling each other. Ginny barely heard what was said, did not hear the jeers, the taunts, the explanations and the challenges. Words were said of plans and flaws, betrayal and love, Snape and Dumbledore, Elder Wands and Horcruxes... she didn't even bother to try and process it all now. Harry would explain it all to her, after.

He had promised.

She watched him circle Riddle, confident and sure, amazed at how much he had grown, her heart flying, singing, beating strong... and then it was time. The sun cracked across the enchanted sky of the Great Hall and Voldemort and Harry raised their wands.

"_Avada Kedavara!_"

"_Expelliarmus!_"

The crowd recoiled at the bang as golden flames exploded between the combatants where Voldemort's green jet collided with Harry's red. The red barreled on through the green, repelling it and bouncing it back, both jets now co-mingled and hitting Voldemort square in the chest. Riddle's wand flew out of his hand and arced gracefully in the air to land neatly in Harry's outstretched hand as the pale figure of the boy in the diary fell backwards, arms splayed, eyes dimming and rolling up into his head.

The Great Hall erupted. They all charged Harry. Ginny was among the first. Tom Riddle was dead.

**17.**

Ginny sat with her mother, exhaustion threatening to overtake her. It was done. It was finished. There had been losses, and there would be more tears to be shed… but they had won. The world was still here. They could all embrace those who remained and remember together those who had lost. They still had that freedom, thank Merlin.

Ginny's eyes kept shutting of their own volition. She was beginning to wonder if there was a bed somewhere in the castle calling her name or if she should just go ahead and give into the siren call of sleep here where she sat, when she notice Ron and Hermione leaving the Great Hall with a Harry-sized space between them.

"I wonder where they're going?" she asked aloud.

"Who, dear?" murmured her mum, half asleep herself.

"Ron, Harry, and Hermione."

Molly opened her eyes to look. "I only see Ron and Hermione, Ginny."

"No, it's all three of them." Ginny looked up to see her mother giving her a nervous sidelong glance. "Oh, I'm not losing my mind," she reassured her mum. "Harry has an Invisibility Cloak. He uses it to go places where he's not supposed to be, and to spy on people. They all do. They've used it to get by you loads of times." Ginny closed her eyes, smiling, thoroughly enjoying the dumbfounded look she had just placed on her mother's face.

For a moment she considered following the three of them, but then thought better of it. _Let them have this time together_, she decided. She would see them tomorrow. She would see _him _tomorrow.

For now, it was enough that there would even _be_ a tomorrow.


	28. Chapter 27: Afterwards

Harry Potter awoke with a start.

He sat in bed, breathing heavily, his brain trying to figure out where he was. He wasn't camping... he wasn't at Shell Cottage...

Hogwarts. He was at Hogwarts. In his bed, his old four-poster in Gryffindor Tower, the curtains drawn.

It was over.

He didn't trust it, didn't believe it. He closed his eyes, willed himself into his scar, forced himself to reach out, to touch Voldemort's mind, sink into the world in front of those red-slitted eyes...

It wasn't there.

He opened his eyes as it came back to him then, rushing in... the arrival at Hogwarts, the battle, the Shrieking Shack, the Pensieve, the long walk into the woods to his fate...

Dumbledore at King's Cross...

Hagrid carrying him out of the forest, fat tears splashing down onto his closed eyes, the defenders of Hogwarts crying out to him, McGonagall's voice, Ron and Hermione's...

Someone else's...

Neville's bravery, bravery that humbled him, made his actions seem petty and small by comparison... the battle spilling into the Great Hall, Mrs. Weasley bringing down Bellatrix...

And then finally...

… finally...

He squeezed his eyes shut again and he could still see it. The red jet of light flying out of his wand, meeting the green jet from Voldemort's, the two colliding, rushing away from him, hitting Voldemort square in the chest...

… and it was over. Just like that. Seven years of it, over. Not without cost, of course, not without a terrible cost... he thought of the price paid by so many, too many, the ultimate price. Colin, Remus, Tonks... Fred. Fred, lying peacefully in the Great Hall, surrounded his family, the family that had become like his own family, who had lost a son and a brother in a fight that he, Harry, could have...

_No,_ he told himself firmly. It hadn't been his fight. It had been a fight that belonged to all of them. It was Voldemort's fight. Harry nodded to himself, a little surprised, really, of his sudden acceptance of this truth, a little surprised that the guilt he had felt the previous night at Fred's death had not come rushing over him, overwhelming him. He had tried to avoid thinking about Fred after the final battle, was afraid to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and George, and their whole family. Now, though, this morning, he wanted nothing more than to find them, grieve with them... and celebrate with them. It was over.

Well. There was one other reason he wanted to find the Weasleys.

He took a deep breath and pulled open the canopy of his bed, thrusting his feet out as he turned to face the day. The sun streaming in through the window showed him that it wasn't actually morning anymore but rather late afternoon. Made sense; morning had come just as Riddle had fallen. He looked around but the rest of the room was empty. He had even out-slept Ron, it would seem. He reached for his glasses, on the table by his bed, noticing as he did that the remnants of the sandwich Kreacher had brought him earlier had been cleared away. "Hermione's got a point," he muttered as he lifted himself out of bed. "We really should pay them."

He freshened up and headed down into the Gryffindor common room. The room was near empty, as most of the younger students had all been sent home before the battle of the day before (had it really only been one day ago?), but seated together around the extinguished fireplace, talking quietly, were his classmates: Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Dean, and Neville. As Harry approached they all turned to him and smiled; there were no cheers, which he found he was immensely grateful of.

"Look who the Keazle dragged in," Seamus said with a wicked grin. He stood and pulled Harry into a hug, and each of the rest of them stood and did the same. Harry sat down with them, pulling himself up a chair next to Neville.

"How long have I been asleep?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.

"About ten hours," Lavender said. "I'd say you earned it, though."

"At least," chimed in Parvati.

Harry shook his head. "We all did. All of us. All of you." He looked around at the faces in front of him. "Neville told me some of what you all had to deal with this year. I feel really, really bad; I should have been here..."

"What are you, mental?" Seamus asked with a snort. "You had things to do, didn't you? Important things? Dumbledore things?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"So you went and did them," Parvati said firmly. "We held down the fort here, Harry, as best we could. As you prepared us to do," she added.

"I know what he means, though," Dean said. "We spent the last few weeks in relative luxury at Shell Cottage. We could have helped you lot."

"What, without wands?" Seamus retorted. "Fat lot of good you pair would have been. Besides, who needs Harry Potter? We had Neville Longbottom."

Harry grinned and turned to Neville, who was blushing fiercely. "I just tried to do what you would have done, Harry," Neville said, looking down at his shuffling feet.

"From what I hear, you were brilliant, Neville," Harry assured him. "Absolutely brilliant. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"And when do we get to hear what you were doing?" Lavender asked.

"Really, Lav?" Parvati scolded. "Is this the time?"

"I'm curious, I'm sorry!" Lavender said. "I am! Aren't all of us?"

"Well, yeah," Seamus said. "But we're not dense enough to just blurt it out, are we?"

"It's all right, Lavender," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "You'll all find out soon enough, I'm sure. Word of these things always gets out, doesn't it? But I think I should probably tell the Ministry first. Or what's left of it; Kingsley, I guess. And I promised to tell..." he stopped here. It didn't matter. The grinning looks everyone shared showed Harry that they all knew who he had made that promise to. He hoped his blush wasn't too obvious. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to leave his friends behind, to leave and to go find...

"Ginny was a big help too," Neville said. "And Luna. It wasn't just me."

"Er, yeah," Harry said, his words tripping over the sound of Ginny's name. "Yeah, I'll bet she was... I mean, I'll bet they were... I mean..." he looked up at Dean, who caught his eyes and gave him a small shrug and smile. Harry nodded and took a deep breath.

"Hey, do you know what I just realized?" Seamus said suddenly. "It's over!"

"Of course it's over, Seamus," Parvati said drily. "Voldemort's dead. Even Lavender knew that."

"Hey!"

"No, not that," Seamus said, "but of course, yeah, that. I meant this!" He gestured around him to the room. "Hogwarts! We're seventh years! We're done!"

Harry hadn't thought of that. He'd been preoccupied, to be fair. Everyone else was nodding in realization; it seems they had been preoccupied as well.

"Do you really think that's it?" Neville asked. "I mean, we haven't had much in the way of teaching this year. Do you think they'll let us sit our exams?"

"Dunno," Harry said with a shrug. "I haven't been here all year, but to be honest..." he looked around the common room. "I couldn't imagine coming back here again. I think... I think I'm ready to go." Even as he said the words they startled him, but he knew they were true. He had spent the year longing for the safety and security and sanctuary of Hogwarts, but now that it was within his grasp again he realized it was time to let it go. He looked around at his classmates, saw them all taking in the common room with the same new eyes he now had, watched as they all nodded in agreement with him.

"Funny," Dean mused. "The last seven years of our lives have been about this place. I wonder what's next?"

"You mean the last seven years of our life have been about what kind of trouble Harry's getting into and how many points it was going to cost Gryffindor House," said Seamus to much laughter.

"You know what, Seamus?" Harry said with a smile on his face. "I think those days are over, too."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Parvati said with a smirk.

They all laughed again. Harry couldn't blame her, really. Still... he wondered what was next. And he wondered who his 'what next' would be with.

He extricated himself as politely as he could and slipped through the portrait hole out of the tower. He suddenly couldn't stand being there; more accurately, he suddenly couldn't stand being where Ginny wasn't. His legs felt of jelly as he thought of her, or their long year apart, apart by his choosing. What if she had moved on? What if she was dating someone else? He gasped. What if she WAS dating somebody else? He should have asked them, should have asked...

"Hey, Harry! Harry, wait up!"

Harry turned to see Neville hurrying down the corridor towards him. In his hand he was still clutching the Sword of Gryffindor.

"You still have it?" Harry asked as Neville pulled up alongside him.

"S'what I wanted to talk to you about," Neville said as they walked. "You've used it before, right?"

"Yeah... yeah, I used it down in the Chamber of Secrets. To kill the Basilisk. Why?"

"Because I don't know what to do with it!" Neville said, looking nervous. "When you were done with it, what'd you do?"

"I gave it back to Dumbledore," Harry said with a shrug. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. But..." Harry scrunched up his brow. "I've actually learned a lot about this sword lately, Nev. We had it, Ron, Hermione, and I. When we were... out there."

"Really?" Neville said, his eyes opening in amazement. "How'd you get it?"

"Long story," Harry said. "Doesn't matter. I'll tell you later. The point is, it came to us when we needed it, Nev. Like it did for me that time in the Chamber, and like it did for you outside when you faced down Voldemort. That," Harry added, "was bloody brave, by the way."

"I am a Gryffindor, after all," Neville said with a smile.

"That's my point," Harry said as they stepped onto a moving staircase. "The Sword of Gryffindor belongs to any Gryffindor who's in need of it. It doesn't matter who has it or where it is, really. If it's needed, it'll go." He smiled as he said this; he couldn't help but feel some happiness in the thought of Griphook's reaction when the sword disappeared from his clutches to go and help Neville. "So really, Nev, I think you could just hang onto it. If you wanted to."

Neville stopped in the middle of the corridor they were in, hefting the blade aloft and looking at it with a distant, faraway expression, the bejeweled hilt and mirrored blade faintly humming with power. An image flashed into Harry's mind of Neville raising that same blade high in the air and bringing it swiftly down, neatly slicing Nagini in two. It seemed impossible that the man standing in front of him was the same helpless young boy Hermione had so neatly immobilized on the night in their first year when they had gone after the Philosopher's Stone.

Then again, considering the bravery it had taken for 11-year-old Neville to stand up to his friends on that night, perhaps it wasn't so strange to see him now.

"I don't think I'll keep it," Neville finally said, lowering the Sword of Gryffindor back down. "It just seems too powerful to keep. I don't think I really want it, to be honest."

Harry nodded, and his mind flashed upon the Elder Wand, tucked away now in the tomb on the shore of the Black Lake. "I know how you feel, Nev. I know how you feel."

"I'll give it to Professor McGonagall," said Neville as they continued to walk. "She's a Gryffindor, and I'm sure it'll be safe in her office. We couldn't get it out of the headmaster's office when Snape was in there, and we had Ginny with us. If she couldn't break it out, nobody could. And trust me, she came close."

The mention of Ginny's name caused Harry's heart and stomach to skip a beat. He knew what it was he actually wanted to talk to Neville about, but was looking for a nonchalant way to bring it up. "It was a tough year here, wasn't it, Neville?" he asked instead.

Neville shrugged. "Yeah. No tougher than what you, Ron, and Hermione went through, I wouldn't think. But Ginny can tell you about it."

Harry cleared his throat, trying to mask his nervousness. He was pretty sure he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "And, ah... you suppose that Ginny WANTS to tell me about it, then?"

Neville threw him a quizzical look. "I'm sure she does. Why wouldn't she?"

"It's just that, you know, it's been a long time. I don't suppose she's... I mean it's possible she's..." but he couldn't find the words.

Fortunately, Neville could. "You mean, has she found some other bloke she wants to tell about it?" He laughed. "I don't think so, Harry."

"You don't think so, or..."

"No, she hasn't." They stopped at the top of one staircase and the bottom of another. "Harry, there have been no 'other blokes.' I would know. Not that nobody's tried..."

"What do you mean? Who? I'll..."

"... but," Neville said, cutting him off, "there hasn't been anyone else." He furrowed his brow, looking at Harry almost accusingly. "Why, have there been other girls?"

"No!" Harry answered quickly. "No. There were no other girls. There is no other girl."

Neville smiled. "You should probably go tell her that. She's in the Great Hall, if you're looking. I think she said she was waiting for someone." With that, he headed up the stairs, off towards the headmaster's office, Sword of Gryffindor in hand. For a fleeting instant Harry wished that he had taken Neville up on his offer and taken the sword. Even though he had heard from Neville exactly what he had hoped to hear, and although his path was now laid out clearly for him, he found his stomach was doing backflips and his mouth had gone dry. He could have used whatever vestige of courage that the sword had to offer. Still, even though he was unarmed, he knew exactly what had had to do, and exactly what he wanted to do. It didn't mean it was going to be any easier to do it.

And he had thought facing Voldemort was going to be the nerve-wracking part.

He turned and headed downstairs. He had waited long enough. There was only one person in the entire building, in all of England, in the whole world, that he wanted to see... and she was down in the Great Hall with her family, HIS family, eating a late breakfast.

In the Great Hall, Ginny wondered for only the millionth time or so if Harry was up yet.

She glanced to the door again, just as she had done whenever anyone passed through, and groaned in disappointment when only Ernie Macmillan appeared.

"He'll be down soon enough."

Ginny turned and looked to where Hermione and Ron sat across from her at the table, each wearing bemused expressions. "What are you talking about?" she said in a huff. "I'm not looking for anyone."

"Really?" Hermione asked drily. "Are we going to play that game?"

Ginny didn't answer, instead turning to look over the heads of her family, all seated up and down the Gryffindor table, and towards the entrance to the Great Hall again. Her mother and father had returned from quietly conferring with Professor McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt; Fred's service was going to be part of a memorial of honor for all of those who had fallen and they were discussing the details. She was amazed at the strength and composure of her parents, but as Molly had gently reminded her earlier, Fred had died a hero.

She turned back to her newly returned brother and friend, and found that she was suddenly too emotionally drained to play games. "Harry. I'm waiting for Harry. I... I want to see him, all right?" She hoped she didn't sound too desperate. "I know it should be the last thing on my mind, considering, but... I need to... I..."

She trailed off, glancing towards the door as someone came through. Draco Malfoy. Definitely not Harry. She wondered idly if her threat to him had paid off in any way.

"I don't think it should be the last thing on your mind," Ron said.

Ginny turned back to him, amazed. "You don't?"

He shook his head. "Nah, seems to me like it might be the first, honestly." That's all he said before scooping up another forkful of green beans and shoveling it into his mouth.

"Right, but... but... what if it's the last thing on Harry's mind?" she asked quietly, her innermost fears giving themselves a voice when she least expected them to. "I mean, who knows what you lot have been up to, as neither of you will tell anything aside from you spent a lot of time camping..."

"Interminable, that was," Ron muttered.

"And Harry," Ginny continued, ignoring him, "he just seems so much more... so much..."

"More what?" Hermione asked, her eye twinkling as she did. Ginny looked for the words, but as she didn't want to come right out and say, 'Desirable,' in front of Ron she settled for a vague wave of her hand and a helpless sigh.

"First of all," Hermione said matter-of-factly, gesturing with her fork, "we haven't told you anything because Harry asked us not to."

"Why on Earth would he... ?"

"Because he wants to tell you himself, duh. You're a little slow on the uptake today, Gin," said Ron.

"So good to have you back," Ginny said sourly. "And what's 'second of all', Hermione?"

Hermione studied her intently for several moments. "Do you remember the Marauder's Map?"

"Of course I do," Ginny said hotly. "And it would have come in dirt useful here, thanks so much for taking it with you."

"Oh, yeah... " Ron said, eyes widening. "That would have made more sense."

"Yeah, it would have."

"Perhaps, but if you had it, Ginny, then Harry wouldn't have been able to use it." Hermione explained.

"Use it?" Ginny asked, confused. "Why would Harry need to use it? You weren't here. You were off in a tent somewhere."

"He didn't know that we knew," Hermione said, "but when we were out there, camping, and Harry thought we weren't looking, you know what he'd do?"

Ron shook his head. "Frankly, I'm embarrassed for him."

"What would he do?" Ginny practically shouted. "Out with it!"

Hermione grinned. "He'd unfold the map and he'd look for your dot, and he would sit there. And stare at it. So intently that he didn't even notice me watching from behind him."

Ginny was suddenly very aware of her own sense of self, aware of each breath she took, her body tingling all over. She didn't know what to say to that, how to respond. "Oh," she meekly settled for. "That's very... well, that's... very..."

"Embarrassing," Ron said firmly. "Truly awful."

"You only wish you had something to be that embarrassed about, Ron," Ginny shot back. "I mean, really, you're one to... one to..."

Ginny stopped mid-sentence and peered at Ron and Hermione. She realized for the first time, as they sat here in the Great Hall on the afternoon-after-the-world-had-changed-forever, lazily eating lunch or breakfast of whatever meal this was... her brother and her friend were holding hands.

This whole time they had been sitting here, almost an hour now, there they were, right in front of her. Nothing fancy, really. Just two tired, worn hands, casually but firmly grasping each other for support and love as the pair sat and tried to come to terms with everything that had happened and everything that was to come. Ginny was stunned speechless, a rare thing.

"Uh… Ginny?" Ron asked, concern finding its way into his voice. Hermione simply gasped a little and blushed, as always quicker on the uptake than Ron. What she did not do, however, was remove her hand from his.

"When did this… when did this, when did this, when did THIS?" Ginny stammered. Hermione giggled, just a little, and Ron looked around confused.

"What are you talking about? When did what… oh." A playfully exasperated Hermione had held up their joined hands and waved them in Ron's face.

"Yes, that!" said Ginny, the startled tone of her voice quickly giving way to something giddier. "That! When did that become the-thing-to-do for you two, among other things, I hope?"

"Ginny!" gasped Hermione. Ron also looked affronted… but not TOO affronted.

"Oh, Hermione, come on!" chided Ginny. "You two just spent the whole year in a tent together. I'm not completely naïve, you know."

"I don't even think you're a little bit naïve," offered Ron.

"Don't make me pull my wand out, Ronald," Ginny mock-scolded him. "So, how long now?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other hesitantly. "Well, actually…" began Hermione, but then she didn't seem to want to go on.

"Yes, come on," pushed Ginny. "When?"

Ron cleared his throat. "You see, Gin…" But he, too, trailed off.

"Oh, get over yourselves!" Ginny exclaimed. "I want to hear this! I've been waiting bloody close to seven years for you two to figure it out. When did you first kiss?"

Again, the hesitancy. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, each silently urging the other to speak. Finally, Ron sighed and turned to his sister.

"Last night," he said, a little bashfully.

"Last night?" Ginny was confused. "But that was…" The battle. The Battle of Hogwarts. "When, last night? During the…"

She trailed off, and held Ron's gaze. He in turn looked to Hermione, who then locked eyes with Ginny, and gave her a silent, curt nod.

"During the battle?" Ginny was aghast. They found a corner in the middle of the battle? The fight that took Fred away from them, Tonks and Professor Lupin, Colin Creevy, and so many of her other friends? These two took that opportunity to finally kiss each other, for the first time, during THAT battle? "How… how…" Ginny started. She turned to her brother. "You pick then to kiss her? After all these years? That's when you buck up and do it? When people were dying, when Fred was…?"

"Hey!" said Ron, anger flashing across his face. "We didn't plan for it, all right? It just sort of happened! It's not like we went looking for an empty classroom!"

"But still!"

"Besides," Ron added, cutting Ginny off. "Get off my case." With a grin, he looked to Hermione, who blushed fiercely. "It wasn't me."

A wide-eyed Ginny turned to her friend. "You kissed him?" she said in wonderment. "After all those years of him being an absolute prat about it… "

"Watch it!" said Ron.

"… YOU kissed HIM?"

"I couldn't help it, Ginny!" cried Hermione, loud enough so she got some looks tossed her way by those seated nearby. "It was war," she said more quietly. "I was afraid I might lose the chance."

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment. Ginny knew that Hermione was right, a fact made ever-more-sobering by the echoes of those who had fallen still present in the hall. "So," said Ginny, "what did he do that finally got you all heated up?"

Hermione turned to Ron, a look of admiration and love on her face the likes of which Ginny had never seen in her friend before. It was Ron's turn to blush. "You should have seen him, Ginny! He was so worried!"

"I think we all were…"

"No!" said Hermione. "Ron was so worried about the house elves! He wanted to make sure they all got to safety!"

Ginny blinked. Once. Then twice. "The house elves?" She finally asked.

"Yes."

"The Hogwarts house elves?"

"Yes, why?"

Ginny sat for a moment, then asked quietly, "Let me see if I have this straight. My brother, Ronald Bilius Weasley, expressed his concern for the Hogwarts house elves…"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. Ron blushed fiercely, but the grin seemed attached to his face with a permanent sticking charm.

"… and this," Ginny continued soberly, "this was the thing, Hermione, after seven years of playing cat-and-mouse with each other, in the middle of war, in the middle of a battle, this is the thing that caused him to be, right at that moment, so completely and utterly irresistible that you simply could not put off any longer the impulse to kiss him as hard as you could? I am hoping," she added, "given the situation you chose and the circumstances surrounding it, that it was a snog worthy of the motivation." Hermione and Ron looked at each other, positively beaming, and nodded.

Ginny laughed. Just once, just one chuckle. This, though, quickly became two, which then became four, which then turned into eight, to sixteen, etc., etc… until she found herself laughing uncontrollably, pounding her fist on the table, tears streaming down her face, the absurdity of it all drawing forth a contradiction of reactions.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, concerned; Ginny was also drawing looks from those seated around the hall. "Ummm… Gin?" asked Ron. "You feeling okay?"

In response, Ginny threw herself across the table and pulled Ron and Hermione into as big a hug as she could muster, tears streaming down her face, tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of relief. "I just…" she struggled to find the words, but then realized these words were not a struggle at all. "I just love you two so much!" she said, tears now flowing freely between all three of them.

"We love you too, Ginny!" Hermione managed between her own snuffling. Ron simply nodded his head vigorously and drew his sister closer. The hug lasted minutes, and sometime in the course of it, Ginny became dimly aware that her whole family, her mum and dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George… all of them had joined in.

"Um… everyone?" Ron queried, sounding a bit strangled. "You're crushing us."

The pressure around them released, and Ginny looked up to see that she, Ron, and Hermione were surrounded by Weasleys, all of whom seemed to be grinning and crying. She turned back to Ron and Hermione. "I'm just so glad you're not dead," she said. Then, with a gasp of realization, she turned to George, as did everyone else. He looked around at all of them in return.

"What?" he asked. "I'm glad they're not dead, too." He absently scratched at his missing ear. "Fred's likely pretty miffed about it, though."

An awkward silence descended. Again, George looked around at his family, but this time tears began to well up in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to joke about it. I don't know…"

Ginny quickly went to George and pulled him into a fiercely protective hug. "I thought it was funny," she whispered to him. "And Fred would've thought so, too."

George nodded, tears now flowing freely. "I'm going to miss him so much, Gin," he whispered.

"I know," she replied. "I know. We all will."

Pulling away, George looked at Ron and Hermione, wiping away tears as he did so.

"But I am glad you two aren't dead," he said with a small smile. "I meant that."

"I should hope so," Hermione shot back, a smile dancing on her lips as well. "Took a lot of effort not to get that way." Then she clambered over the table, pulled George into a hug, Ron followed, and soon the family was embracing anew.

After several minutes, again, the Weasleys pulled apart and sat back down, Molly drying her eyes more vigorously than anyone. If they were concerned that anyone in the Hall disapproved of their emotional displays they certainly didn't show it, but as the scenes that had played out in the Great Hall all day among all of its inhabitants consisted largely of some variation of crying and hugging it was a safe bet that nobody thought anything of it.

"What brought all this on, anyway?" Ginny pretended to wonder. "Oh, that's right. Ron and Hermione told me about the healthy snog they shared while we were all risking our lives in battle."

"And I'd like to know what you were doing out of the Room of Requirement, young lady," started Molly, but at a warning glance from Arthur, she added, "but not right now."

"You two finally, eh?" said Bill. "About time. Hey, who had seventh year in the pool?"

"Fred did," George answered firmly. He let the silence sit for just a moment before continuing, "Not to worry. I will be happy to collect his winnings on his behalf."

With broad grins, Bill and Charlie both pulled out five galleons apiece and slid them across the table to George. After a moment, Percy followed suit, and then their father.

"Wait a minute," said Ron, although he was still grinning. "All of you but mum and Ginny had bets on us?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm broke," she said. "Good thing, too. I was going to pick sixth year."

"And I didn't bring my purse," Molly chimed in. "George, dear, I'll pay when we get back to The Burrow."

"At your convenience, mum," chirped George, and it only seemed a little forced. Fred, thought Ginny, would have definitely approved.

The conversation fell back into normalcy, or as normal as things could possibly be on a day like today. Bill and Fleur had taken the seats next to Ginny and Ginny was trying to eavesdrop on a conversation now between Bill and Kingsley Shacklebolt, when out of the corner of her eye she saw Hermione stiffen up, eyes brightening. She looked to Ginny and said, "Look who's here."

Ginny stood up to look over Bill's head... and there was Harry. He had just entered the Great Hall and had immediately engaged in conversation with an emotional Xenophilius Lovegood. "Blighter better be apologizing," she heard Ron mutter, but she was far too wrapped up in her own nervous anticipation to wonder what he meant. Now a line was forming, and one by one people were coming up to Harry, shaking his hand, embracing him. He greeted them all, politely, but all the time was slowly but surely moving towards the Gryffindor table, and the Weasleys.

As he approached she turned away to stare determinedly in front of her. She could hear her family greeting Harry warmly, she heard the sniffling and laughing beginning anew, she could hear Harry quietly responding to them. She heard others from the hall make their way over to give Harry their own words of thanks and congratulations, to grieve with him and celebrate with him and shake his hand. Inwardly she marveled at the sense of his presence. He had always seemed so reluctant to shoulder the mantle that had been forced upon him, but now, with each passing member of the crowd he spoke with and shared a quiet word with, she heard… no, she could feel a maturity that belied his years but spoke of his experience. It was much the same sense he had given off the night before, making his final stand against Tom Riddle, showing the world not the boy who had lived but the wizard that boy had become. Even with everything Hermione and Ron had told her, about how Harry spent so much time thinking of her, that he had wanted to talk to her personally and explain what had happened, Ginny found herself scared that, perhaps, Harry had grown up too much, that he was beyond her reach, again, that she was too immature, again.

_Are you serious? _asked the voice inside her head._ Look up._

She felt him standing beside her. She took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet his, brilliant and green behind his glasses… and for all of Harry's newfound maturity and poise, she saw that he was at that moment as nervous as she had ever seen him. Her heart leaped. If that's how she made him feel, if he was terrified to speak to her, then she had a pretty good idea of what he was going through, because that's precisely how she felt looking at him.

For a long moment neither of them moved nor spoke. Around them, the Hall seemed to hold its collective breath, or at least the portion containing the Weasleys and Hermione. She had never told most of her family what had happened between Harry and she, but she was fairly certain she had worn her heart on her sleeve all year long and she had no doubt they all knew and were waiting to see what might come next.

Finally, Harry spoke. "Hey," he said. Eloquence was never his thing.

"Hey," Ginny responded. Apparently they were a match. Ginny searched for something else to say. "So," she decided on. "_Expelliarmus_, huh?"

"Er – what?" asked Harry, puzzled. Then he realized what she was saying and laughed. "Right. _Expelliarmus_. My go-to spell. Works every time."

"Riddle never stood a chance."

"I thought about using the Bat-Bogey Hex, but I could never match your flair for it."

"Few could," scoffed Ginny.

"So," continued Harry. "I went with old reliable. Works every time. _Expelliarmus_."

And with that, Ginny threw herself out of her seat, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips meeting his, and she kissed him for all she was worth, with everything she had, and Harry kissed her back, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other losing itself in her hair, and they tried right then and there to desperately make up for a year's worth of missed kisses, time in which circumstances had forced them apart but time they now seemed destined to spend the rest of their lives recapturing. It was not a kiss of youth, but a kiss borne of experience, and struggle, and the pain of separation. It was a kiss shared by two who had been forced to grow up too fast and who were completely aware of what the world had almost cost them, who possessed fully the knowledge of what had almost been lost and of what indeed had been lost, a kiss of two who were determined not to take for granted the sacrifices of those who had won them this moment and a million more just like it. It was not simply a kiss of passion, though its passion could dull the brightest of flames; it was a kiss of promise, and in it was held their past, present, but mostly their future. It was not the kiss of a young girl and her crush, of a lost princess and her knight, of a little sister and a best friend; it was a kiss between equals, partners, lovers, the kiss of those who had found in each other the best version of themselves. It was not a kiss shared by two who had spent only a few short weeks together one very long year ago, but of two who had spent a young lifetime apart, searching for each other, and who had now found each other and had returned home to each other for good. It was not a kiss of exploration or excitement or victory or sadness; it was a kiss of love in all its majesty, of two hearts coming together once more and, at last, letting it be known to all that they would vociferously and fervently refuse and fight should the world ever try to separate them again.

When it ended… and both would have been happy enough for it never to end… when it ended, Ginny did not look around for the approving eyes of her family and friends. She wanted only to look at Harry, to drink him in, to realize that he was not some dream, and that he was really here, holding her, being held by her, and he was not going to have to go away again to fight off some nightmare or demon. If she had looked around, of course, she would have seen Hermione and Fleur and her mother sobbing, and her father trying hard not to do likewise, and her brothers grinning from ear to ear even as they pretended to be disgusted. In fact, she would have seen most of the Great Hall staring at them, some in shock, some passing amongst themselves knowing glances and smiles. But Ginny did not look around, and neither did Harry. They simply held fast to each other, both with their arms and their eyes.

"You're not leaving again, are you?" whispered Ginny.

"Not without you," Harry whispered in hoarse reply.

"In case you do," she said, "In case you have to, as you are the hero of the Wizarding World and I do understand that things may come up. But in case you do have to leave again, I want you to know this: I love you."

She hadn't planned to say it, but now that she had she knew that she meant it, all three tiny, humongous words of it, and she had no intention of taking it back, no matter his reaction. She had no cause for worry.

"I... I love you, too," Harry said, his smile getting even wider, if possible. "And I meant it. If they make me go anywhere, I'm taking you with me."

"Deal," Ginny agreed with a smile. "After all," she added, nodding at Ron and Hermione, "I'd almost have to be more fun to travel with then that lot."

Harry laughed and glanced at his friends, standing arms around each other with dopey smiles plastered across their faces. He turned back to Ginny. "Let's start right now. Fancy a walk?"

"Mr. Potter, I thought you'd never ask," Ginny replied, but then remembered her family. She turned to her parents. "Mum, Dad, Harry was wondering…"

"Go, go!" waved her father, smiling as broadly as one can expect from a man who knows he has just seen his daughter choose his future son-in-law. Her mother agreed but was too choked up to say it, smiling through her tears. Ginny turned back to Harry, gave her hand to him, and together they hurried out of the Hall to the sound of thunderous applause.

A few hours later they sat together under the beech tree they had so often sat under back when life had been less hectic and life-threatening… although Ginny had to keep reminding herself that all of that was done. Now night had fallen, a quiet and peaceful night, and she lay in Harry's arms. Harry had spent the past several hours speaking quietly to her, telling her what he, Ron, and Hermione had been up to over the past several months, and she was now trying to digest it as he waited patiently. There was much more to tell, several year's worth, but it would be best, he thought, to start with current events. She wasn't inclined to disagree.

When she finally spoke, she chose a strangely harmless topic to start with. "Hermione told me about the Marauder's Map, and how you would sneak it out and check it for me," she said, needling him. "Sweet. A little creepy, but sweet."

"Uggh," grunted Harry, although he smiled as he said it. "That's embarrassing."

"Mm-mmm," disagreed Ginny, closing her eyes and nestling deeper into the crook of his arm. "I would have liked to have had one of all England, so I could have done the same for you."

There was a silence between them, a comfortable, contented silence. It hung for several minutes.

And then, Harry spoke. "That would have to be a pretty big map."

Ginny nodded, her eyes staying closed and her smile never fading. "Yes," she agreed. "It would have been very impractical."

This was follow by several more long minutes of silence. Ginny wasn't sure why she had started there, with that, except that it was hard, very hard, to jump right into some of the things he had told her. Things, horrible things, things she couldn't imagine anyone having to live through.

But there was no point avoiding them. She had, after all, wanted to hear about them. "So," Ginny finally said, opening her and eyes staring fixedly at the stars above, "Horcruxes."

"Yep," answered Harry. "Horcruxes."

"I've never heard of them."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not surprised," he said. "Not a lot of people have. They're really dark, awful stuff. Hermione could barely even find a mention of them in the Hogwarts library, not even in the restricted section."

Ginny nodded. If Hermione couldn't find it in the library, it had to be rare information, indeed. "And Riddle's diary?" she asked quietly. "That was a Horcrux?"

"Yes," said Harry in a hushed tone to match her own.

Ginny nodded again, lost in thought. "I knew it," she said.

"You did?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Well, not as such," she admitted. "But now you've told me what a Horcrux is, and knowing what that diary... felt like... there's really nothing else it could have been."

They sat in silence for a moment. "Are you all right?" Harry tentatively asked.

"No," Ginny admitted, shaking her head. "But I will be."

Silence fell over them again for several more minutes, a silence in which they simply sat in each others arms as she absorbed the little bit of information Harry had shared with her. "This is just the tip of the iceberg, isn't it?" she finally asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"You promised to tell me everything about everything."

"I did."

"Will you?"

"I promised. Of course I will."

"And that's going to take awhile."

Harry chuckled. "It might," he conceded.

"I don't know," Ginny said, stretching her arms and nestling in even closer to him. "Maybe you could just write it down and I'll read it. You could write a book or something."

"That," said Harry thoughtfully, "would be a very long book. I would probably need to write more than one."

"How many?"

Harry thought about it for a minute. "Seven," he finally decided. "One for each year at Hogwarts."

Ginny let out a low whistle. "You'd better get started," she teased. "That could take you ten years."

"Forget it," Harry replied. "Let someone else do it. I have a feeling I'm going to be busy enough as it is."

"We are, aren't we?" Ginny said quietly. "It will take a lot of time, I think, to get everything back to... well, if not normal, than something not entirely unlike it, and with all the funerals alone..."

She stopped. She could no longer speak. Somebody had placed a large stone in her throat.

"Ginny," Harry said quietly, "Fred died a hero. Remus, Tonks... all of them died heroes."

"I know," Ginny said, the latest of many tears she was sure would be spilled in the weeks to come rolling down her cheek. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

"I know," Harry said quietly. "It doesn't."

"But at the same time," she continued, wiping her eyes, "it does. It doesn't make sense, but..."

"It makes sense," Harry insisted. "It makes perfect sense. In fact, speaking of... Remus and Tonks..."

"Teddy," Ginny said, remembering now her responsibilities. She could kick herself; she was the boy's godmother and she hadn't even given him a thought all day!

"Right, Teddy," Harry confirmed. "I think I'll have to go to see him, tomorrow."

"Right," Ginny said. "Me, too."

It took a moment for it to register, but when it did, Ginny sat up and looked at Harry, who was reflecting her own confused look right back at her. "Wait," he asked, "why do you have to go?"

"I'm his godmother," Ginny said. "Tonks asked me."

"But... but... I'm his godfather," Harry said in a hushed tone. "Remus asked me."

They looked at each other in stunned silence for a few moments more. "They picked US?" Ginny asked. "BOTH of us?"

Harry nodded. "Looks that way." He grinned. "Honestly, that seems... it seems perfect. To me."

Ginny smiled and nodded. "It does. It's so perfect and cute it makes me want to throw up a bit, to be frank."

Harry shook his head. "I do not understand girls, I truly don't."

"Good, as you don't have to understand girls. You only have to understand me." Ginny then grew more serious. "Harry, you were closer to Professor Lupin than I was to Tonks. If you want to go see Teddy by yourself the first time, I understand, I completely under..."

"Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd want to come, even before I knew you were his godmother," said Harry. "But only if you want to."

"I want to," she insisted. "I completely want to. You have no idea how much I want to."

"Good," Harry said with a nod. "I want you to be there for this, as much as I want you to be there for everything. I promised Remus, I..." he stopped and looked away.

"What is it?" Ginny asked.

"My parents," Harry said quietly. "And Remus, and Sirius. I saw them."

"What?" Ginny started, looking around. "Where?"

"Not here," said Harry. "As I walked into the forest to face him. To face Riddle." Ginny did not ask how; he was still turned away. "And when Riddle hit me with _Avada Kedavra_..."

"Harry, he couldn't have!" Ginny cried.

"He did," Harry said. "And when he hit me with it, I went to a place. It looked like King's Cross, and it was... cloudy and all white. And Dumbledore was there."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered mournfully.

"And he told me," Harry went on, "that I could stay there, and be with my parents and Sirius and everyone." At this, Harry turned back to her and took her hand. "But I didn't stay," he said quietly, looking into her eyes. "I didn't want to. I needed to be back here, for everyone. For me. I needed to... I needed to finally have a life." He smiled. "So, you see... I certainly want you to be there when I see Teddy. And for, you know... everything else."

Ginny shook her head slowly, tears welling up in her eyes anew. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "That's... that's..."

"That's what?" he asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"Well, I don't know," Ginny replied. "It's not every day someone tells a girl they turned down heaven to be with her. It would be lovely if it wasn't so terrifying. It's something awful to have to live up to, don't you think?"

Harry grinned. "But when have I ever known you to fail at something?"

"True," Ginny admitted. "Still, to imagine... Harry, your parents! How could you... ?"

"Ginny, I promise," Harry said quietly, "it's what I wanted to do. Trust me, Ms. Weasley, you are good and proper motivation."

Ginny sat up as though she had been shocked. "What did you say?"

"What?" Harry asked, confused. "Motivation?"

_Motivation..._

"That's it," Ginny said, shaking her head in amazement. "Harry, did you ever think that Professor Dumbledore was even smarter than we all give him credit for?"

"Actually, Gin, I'm starting to realize that he maybe wasn't quite as smart as I always thought he was… but that's okay, too," Harry said with a smile, gazing off into the clouds at some distant memory.

"Well," Ginny said, tearing up, but smiling, "he was still pretty bloody brilliant."

"Undoubtedly," agreed Harry, looking back at her and growing concerned when he saw her crying. "Ginny, what is it? What'd I say?"

"I'll tell you later," she said, tears now flowing openly down her smiling face. She grasped his hand tightly, desperately. "Oh, Harry," she cried. "Do you have any idea just how much I love you? Do you?"

"I... I think so," Harry said, blushing fiercely. "Because I feel... you know... much the same... that is to say, I understand that... yes, of course you know..." She grinned. He sighed. "I love you, too. I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm not very good at this."

Ginny laughed. "Harry, you just told me you came back from paradise for me! I'd say you're exceedingly good at this!"

"Oh!" Harry said, smiling broadly. "Well, good. If you think so... good."

"I also think," Ginny continued, wrapping her arms tightly around him, "that you are completely adorable, and I ALSO think that I'm going to kiss you now for a very long time."

"That's great!" said Harry, sounding very relieved. "Because that's just what I was thinking we should do!"

And she did. And he did. And it lasted forever.


	29. Chapter 28: Epilogue

_Author's Note: I want to give a big ol' thanks to all of you who've read, enjoyed, and commented along the way! Even though I didn't reply to every comment, I definitely read them all, and I appreciate greatly all of you input, both positive and negative. Best to you all, and here it is: the Epilogue to Ginny Weasley and the Half-Blood Prince. Enjoy!_

"But what if I'm in Slytherin?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows in mild surprise at the earnestness with which her son whispered his concern. James had been teasing him about it for weeks, all summer, really; she had never taken it as anything more than brotherly fooling, something she knew a little bit about. But for Al to express this so urgently, so quietly, just before stepping on the train, she knew it had to be a real worry for him.

She also knew that this question was not meant for her, but for Harry.

She turned away, making sure Hermione and Ron were out of earshot and pretending not to hear herself, waving instead to Demelza and Natalie at the other end of the platform, both dropping their own children off for first and second years, respectively. "Albus Severus," Harry said behind her, crouched down close to their son, "you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."

"But just say-"

"- then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it?" Harry said kindly but firmly. "It doesn't matter, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account.

She heard the amazement in Al's voice as he replied. "Really?"

"It did for me," Harry assured him.

Ginny smiled; she had always liked that story. For all of his concerns about destiny and fate and what-not, she took it as proof that Harry had always been in control of his life. He had chosen his path. He had chosen to be a Gryffindor.

Now the trains were loading up and final boarding calls were sounding. Ginny gave Albus another quick hug and a kiss and did the same to Rose; both children wiped themselves clean of it as all good children should. She closed the door behind Al and wiped a bit of moisture from the corner of her eye; she was not prone to crying at these moments but it was a bittersweet thing, sending her second youngest off now to begin his growing up in earnest.

Rose and Albus quickly joined the throng of students hanging out the windows, many of whom had their heads turned to Harry. Harry barely noticed; he had honed his obliviousness to others reactions towards him to near perfection by this point in his life.

Albus had not. "Why are they all staring?" he demanded crossly.

"Don't let it worry you," Ron said. "It's me. I'm extremely famous."

The train began to move. Harry walked alongside it, away from the rest of them, his eyes locked on the pair of identical ones peering out at him from Albus Potter. The Hogwarts Express had long since disappeared around the bend in the track before Ginny walked quietly up to her husband at the end of the platform, his hand still raised in farewell, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He'll be all right," she murmured softly.

Harry turned and smiled at her, his hand absentmindedly brushing against his lightning scar as he lowered it. "I know he will," he said. Ginny smiled warmly back at him, and she was inwardly amazed again for the umpteenth time at how his eyes on hers could still send her stomach into trembles. Not always, anymore, not all the time… but at moments. At moments.

"We're meeting Hermione's parents for lunch in London," Ron said as they rejoined he, Hermione, Lily, and Hugo. "Want to come along?"

"No, we're headed to The Burrow," said Harry. "Your dad's happened across yet another new Muggle device he'd like me to take a look at. Called an eye-phone or something?" Harry shook his head and laughed. "He doesn't seem to have figured out I've been in the wizarding world for twenty-six years now. I know about as much about this stuff as he does."

Ron scowled. "So you get to eat mum's cooking and I have to go to some Muggle restaurant? Must be some life, being the Chosen One."

"Oh, put a sock in it, Ron," Ginny said, playfully punching her brother. "But don't you two ever talk like that," she quickly added to the giggling Lily and Hugo.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked. Ginny looked up to see that her husband had turned again, watching into the distance where the Hogwarts Express had disappeared.

"Hey," Ginny said, gently turning him to face them again. "Al will be fine. Relax."

Harry smiled and gave the barest shrug. "I'm perfectly relaxed," he assured her.

They all headed towards the platform exit, Lily and Hugo running ahead. "Remember," said Ron, "if he gets sorted into Slytherin it's all your fault, Harry. It was your idea to give him the middle name 'Severus'."

"It was MY idea to give him the middle name 'Severus', which you full well know," said Ginny with a grin. It was not a new conversation. "Besides, it was either 'Albus Severus' or 'Albus Half-Blood Prince'."

"Unfunny, Ginny," Hermione said in a sing-song tone over her shoulder. Harry and Ginny shared a smiling glance; after all these years Hermione still didn't like to be reminded of that particular name.

"Albus 'Half-Blood Prince' Potter," repeated Ron, chiefly in order to irritate his wife. "You're right, doesn't have the same ring to it."

"And anyway, we wanted to name him after Professors Snape and Dumbledore," said Ginny, "and as you well know," (and this next part she directed pointedly, as always, to Hermione), "Harry the sixth-year potions champion was the REAL Half-Blood Prince."

"He was not," Hermione shot at her with a contrasting evil-eye and pleasant smile, not entirely able to dismiss her annoyance at the old school-days joke, "and I despise the entire lot of you. Hugo! Put that down! Hugo!"

"Oi, Hugo, leave that in the rubbish!" Ron yelled, hurrying across the platform after Hermione to drag their youngest away from the trash bin out of which he was pulling some student's discarded potion ingredients.

"Well," Ginny said quietly to Harry as she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, "you're MY Half-Blood Prince, and you always have been."

"So long as it's you, that's all right," Harry replied with a grin, drawing her close and into a kiss.

"Mum, dad, ewww! Stop being so gross!"

Ginny and Harry broke apart, Ginny rolling her eyes at her daughter's disgusted face. "Children," she muttered to a guffawing Harry. "Such a blessing."

They continued on their way, the little extended family, through the mist of the platform and back into the real world, Ron and Hermione arguing about which of them had let Hugo wander so far out of sight and Harry making faces right back at their giggling daughter.

It was a lovely life, Ginny decided as she slipped her hand into her husband's and smiled contentedly, just as she had always known it would be, even back over that year when she didn't know it would be this way at all.


End file.
